


Wicked Game

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Just Say Lass [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Author Has Zero Shame Infecting You with Thirst for this OC, Background for Another Fic, Beach Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extramarital Affairs, Extravagant Romantic Gestures, F/M, Grief, Infidelity, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Lust at First Sight, Male Solo, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Morally Ambiguous Character, OC is a bit of a Perv, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Original Character, Parent Death, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Semi-public masturbation, Sensory Deprivation, Shameless Smut, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, mid life crisis, related to another work, very little to do with canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-05-27 03:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: He’ll break your heart, Abigail. A man like that is used to having the world cater to his every whim, and you’ll never be enough. Be careful.Companion Piece toJust Like Heaven, a collection of semi one shots from the perspective of Abigail Henderson's soon-to-be ex-husband, John Baker. Gives insight into how they met, how their relationship began, how it fell apart, and later on will include insight into scenes from its companion fic.Scenes from Just Like Heaven begin Chapter 9.





	1. Everything He Ever Wanted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WindySuspirations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindySuspirations/gifts), [ladymdc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymdc/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Just Like Heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14589480) by [LarasLandlockedBlues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues). 



> For my two dear friends, without whose support I would have floundered. This fic is one hundred percent (your fault) dedicated to you, as a thank you and also an outlet, because _how_ did this happen to all three of us? The thirst. It's real. At least we can revel and talk about it over sage potatoes at the beach, watching the sharks. Cheers, my lovelies - you deserve everything good in this world, even self-indulgent thirst fics like this.
> 
> xx,  
> Lara
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _For Reference:_  
> [John's Face Claim](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d8/00/0e/d8000e9d2d5f861d70eec50df94c8382.jpg)  
> [Connie's Face Claim](https://photos.vanityfair.com/2015/03/10/54fefcd0ebd1a8c7648a0f91_ss03-robin-wright-fashion.jpg)

His alarm clock began to ring and immediately he reached over to turn it off, blinking a few times to come to his senses. The sun was barely rising, a dim glow of grey washing over the beige walls so that he could just begin to make out the familiar furniture in the room.

Her dark wood vanity beside his tall dark dresser, the valet on top that held his cufflinks and watches, everything meticulously organized and spotless. The modern artwork on the wall, the piece he’d never fully cared for hanging directly across from the bed.

With a glance beside him he saw her shifting, possibly woken up by his alarm even though he had turned it off quickly. Hers would be going off soon as well, he felt fairly certain he recalled her saying she had to work today for the gala she was planning.

Then again, he’d only been half-listening, reading over the discovery for his case with a glass of scotch.

Just like every night.

Her back was to him, and he let his gaze roam over the short blonde hair, the softness of her arms, the white nightgown that she always wore to bed. The gala coincided with her fortieth birthday, he needed to remember to get her a gift. He made a mental note to have his secretary figure out what she wanted and order it so that he didn’t forget.

With a sigh he dragged his hand across his brow and then pushed himself up in bed. He sat on the edge for a moment, trying to force his mind to wake up, to shake the sense of drudgery that had begun to overtake him recently. He walked to his dresser and pulled out his running shorts and shirt, a pair of socks, and the step tracker she had gotten him for his birthday.

“Need to keep you healthy, old man!” she’d teased, and he’d plastered on a wide smile as he thanked her.

After he pulled on his sneakers he snuck out of the bedroom, making his way through the penthouse, hoping the endorphins from his morning run would pull him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t anything major, it was just - boredom.

Monotony.

He had everything he had worked hard for, but none of it gave him the joy he had thought it would. And Connie…

He set off as soon as he passed the doorman, jogging to the end of the street so that he could make his way into Central Park. Beginning on his normal path, he suddenly slowed and looked around.

The same path, every morning, the same routine.

Without another moment’s hesitation he turned left instead of right, following the winding trail, taking in the sights and enjoying the unfamiliarity of this route. He lost track of the time and how long he had been running, instead letting his feet simply take him where they would.

When he made it back to the penthouse, he felt invigorated, hardly caring at all that he was half an hour behind his usual routine. Connie was sitting in the kitchen in her long, white terry cloth robe drinking tea as she read _The New York Times_.

“John, I thought you’d left early for work,” she greeted him, frowning when she saw he was still in his running clothes. “Something wrong?”

“No, just took a different path, lost track of time,” he told her with a smile, and she raised her eyebrows at him. When he passed her he pressed a kiss to her cheek and she pulled back slightly.

“I already did my makeup,” she protested.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and scowled as he headed up the stairs to their bedroom.

While he hurried through his shower he ruminated over her reaction, trying to recall how long it had been since they had last had sex. Was it two weeks now? And she didn’t do more than let him kiss her on the cheek when he came home in the evenings, too busy going over all the papers and invitations for her nonprofit’s gala.

The entire time he got dressed he chafed, thinking about the pretty girl he’d passed while jogging. She’d smiled at him, dimples in her cheeks as she continued in the opposite direction on her run. The memory, the feeling it inspired in him lingered, until he hardly grunted a goodbye to Connie as he rushed out the door with his briefcase.

The doorman, Steve, hailed a cab for him, giving him a curt nod and smile, just as always. John gave the address to the cab driver and leaned back, still mulling over his morning. He was meeting a client outside of the office and should be focusing on his preparations, but his mind kept wandering.

For some reason his mind stuck on his impulsive decision to take a different route for his jog.

 

* * *

 

Twelve-thirty. The meeting had run shorter than he thought it would, and now he was standing on the corner in lower Manhattan, trying to decide if he should head back to the office. He was starving, and technically had time to kill.

With a glance around he tried to see what was on this street, unfamiliar with the area around NYU. There was a bar nearby, the cafe sign in front of it advertising a bleu cheese stuffed burger. He hadn’t let himself have a burger in ages, and considering the longer run he had taken that morning, it didn’t seem like too much of an indulgence.

He checked his watch one last time and then made his way toward the bar. It was darker, and mostly empty, and he realized right away it had to be more of a dive bar than he was used to. The inside was beautiful, though, dark wood for the furnishings and a copper bar. Only one booth lining the wall was full with middle-aged women in business attire, two young men sitting at the bar with backwards ball caps watching the sports news on one of the TVs behind the bar.

Loud music was playing, a song he was certain he had heard on the radio but didn’t care for, something by an artist with a dollar sign in her name. Yet he didn’t turn around to leave and find somewhere else, instead he walked to the bar and took a seat.

“Be with you in a minute,” a voice called over the music, and he glanced to the side at the taps.

The bartender was pouring a beer but looking his way, and when she caught his eye she smirked. There was a casual ease to the way she moved, and John found himself watching as she finished pouring the beers to take to the younger men on the other side of the bar.

She was wearing a simple black tank top and tight jeans, and she had to be hardly five foot two. Her hair was long and dark, hanging to the middle of her back, shiny and swinging slightly as she walked. A grey rose was tattooed on her shoulder, and she was wearing several silver rings and necklaces that looked carefully chosen to complete the look she was going for.

When she walked he noticed the way her hips swayed, everything about her perky, from her thin arms to the perfectly round curves of her ass squeezed into the tight denim of her pants.

She grabbed a menu and walked over to him, sliding it across with another easy smirk. “How’s it going?” she asked by way of greeting, grabbing a glass from beside the well and filling it with ice and water.

“Fine,” he replied.

“Just fine? That’s a shame,” she said as she set the water in front of him. “Can I get you something to drink? It might help.”

He contemplated for a moment and then shrugged. “What scotches do you have?”

Her gaze wandered over him, taking in the suit he wore, the gold Rolex on his wrist, and a humorous gleam came into the chocolate depths of her eyes. “Something tells me you don’t want to know what our well scotch is,” she mused. But she chuckled softly and turned to point at the shelf behind her that was lined with scotches.

“You don’t have Macallan?” he asked, and she simply shook her head. “Johnnie Walker Blue, neat, then.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, but she pronounced the word ironically, her soft rosy lips twisting into a smirk again as she grabbed the bottle. “Want a double?”

He laughed and shook his head as he opened the menu. “Maybe after I’ve eaten,” he told her. “I saw you had a burger special today?”

“Yep,” she answered, placing his scotch on a coaster in front of him. “It’s pretty good, too. Comes with fries and a whiskey sauce.”

“Can I substitute a salad?”

She smirked at him but nodded. “It’s extra, if that matters.”

“That’s fine,” he shrugged and picked up his scotch, passing her the menu.

“Course it is,” she muttered as she keyed in his order. “Hopefully it won’t take too long, as you can see we’re _slammed_.”

He chuckled and set his drink down again, watching as she finished her work on the computer. She was still smirking so easily, teasing lightly, full of a vibrancy he hadn’t encountered in anyone in a while. It was refreshing, even if the way she looked at him was caustic, her eyebrow quirking when she set silverware wrapped in a paper napkin down beside him. It was a silent challenge, but he simply pursed his lips and took a sip of scotch.

His salad came out quickly and he nodded at her when she set it in front of him, engrossed in the one TV behind the bar that she had turned to the news.

“Do they not teach ‘thank you’ in business school?” she quipped.

The comment took him by surprise and he raised his eyebrows at her, actually feeling heat come to his cheeks. “I - sorry, lost in thought,” he said. “Thank you.”

“That’s better,” she smirked and winked at him.

“And - law school, not business school,” he corrected her, trying to figure out the feeling that was coursing through him. He hadn’t felt it in ages, and the way that she rolled her eyes and giggled at him made his heart speed up.

“Oh so you’re a shark,” she said. “Should have realized - scotch and all that.”

He chuckled and shook his head. She walked along the bar, running a hand through her hair as she went, so that it caught and reflected the red light of the neons advertising beer. The young guys at the end of the bar stopped her to talk, and John could hear them trying to hit on her, guffawing as they clumsily and loudly chatted her up.

She simply laughed and shook her head, making a biting comment before walking over to the window to grab John’s burger.

“Thank you,” he made a point of saying when she placed it in front of him, and she feigned shock and placed a hand over her chest. He followed the action with his eyes, letting his gaze linger slightly longer than it should on the soft slopes of her chest.

“He can be taught!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she tried to fight the giggles threatening to escape her throat. But then she dropped her hand and shrugged. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Another scotch, please?” he asked impulsively, even though he still had half of his first still sitting in front of him.

She glanced at his glass and then shrugged. “Sure thing.”

He watched as she moved behind the bar, still thinking about the feeling in the pit of his stomach when she smirked at him, when she teased him. Normally everyone around him treated him with deference, so used to respect now that it had become boring. But her…

When she teased him again about saying thank you, he quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t your parents teach _you_ manners?”

“And to respect my elders,” she returned with a challenging smirk. Again he made note of the absence of lines on her face, how bright and twinkling her eyes were. She had to be in college, possibly not even old enough to drink herself. “But apparently I did a shit job following their advice, since I’m scolding you so rudely. Do as I say not as I do.”

She winked at him again, and he smiled the first full, genuine smile he had in weeks.

When he finished his burger he checked his watch and his eyes widened at the time. He was still all the way across town, and he needed to get back soon. He flagged her down for his bill, and her eyebrows raised slightly when she saw the credit card he put on top of the receipt.

“So, do you work lunch everyday?” he asked casually as he signed the bill.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays,” she answered. “I don’t have class those days.”

“What are you studying?” He raised an eyebrow as he added a tip that was more than double the cost of his bill.

“Journalism,” she told him.

“Ah,” he nodded. “At NYU?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed as she began stacking his plates.

“That’s a good program,” he commented and put his card back in his wallet. “Well, maybe I’ll see you next time. After all, the burger was good enough to come back for.”

Her eyebrows raised and then she giggled. “Yeah, maybe,” she agreed. “I’m Abby, by the way.”

“John,” he responded with a nod and a smile. “See you around, Abby.”

 

* * *

 

His day at the office passed slowly, and he found himself distracted. He almost forgot to remind his secretary to find Connie a birthday present, and he kept having to reread the lines in the discovery he was having to go over. He had court the next day, but preparing suddenly seemed tedious instead of stimulating as it normally did.

By the time he left it was later than normal, and he knew Connie would be close to getting ready for bed. Maybe he could catch her before she retired for the night, since he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all day, needing a release, wanting to feel someone in his arms.

The lights were dimmed in the penthouse when he got home, and Connie was curled up on the sage green sofa in the living room. She was wearing her reading glasses, a recent addition, and she glanced up from the papers she was looking over.

“You had a late night,” she commented. “Big case?”

“Yes,” he answered as he set his briefcase down and shrugged off his suit jacket. “How’s the gala coming?”

“There was a mix up with the caterer, and we’re not sure if the venue will have enough space for as many tables as we need,” she replied, returning her focus to the papers in her hands. “The response has been wonderful, though, it should have an excellent turnout. If we can just manage to fit them all.”

John stalked across the apartment as she spoke, leaning over the back of the sofa to wrap his arms around her. “You sound like you need a break,” he murmured in her ear. He pressed a kiss to her neck, missing the way he used to have to brush aside her long blonde hair to do so. But he pushed that thought aside, trying to redirect his mind. “Come on, babe, let’s go upstairs -”

She giggled, sounding flustered - or maybe exasperated? - but pulled away from him. “I have so much to do, the gala is coming up,” she denied him. “Maybe tomorrow night, okay?”

He sighed and hung his head, but he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Of course,” he assured her. “I had a long day, I’m going to head up.”

She hummed noncommittally and continued her work, and he held back a sigh as he straightened and headed for the stairs. The need was coiling inside him, heavy in the pit of his stomach, and he dragged his hand down his chin as he looked around the empty bedroom.

The image of a smirk and dark eyes taunted him, and he groaned slightly as he thought about the way Connie had pulled away from him again. Eighteen years, and it still just - was.

He began to loosen his tie, feeling stifled, sliding off his shoes as he looked around the bedroom. This wouldn’t do, and he wasn’t going to beg her. If she wanted to ignore him, so be it.

Slowly wandering into the master bath he turned on the rainfall shower so that it could get hot as he continued to undress. He stepped into the large glass stall once he was naked, hoping the water would help with the tension seizing his body.

The day had disoriented him, thrown him off routine, and yet he felt himself as if a stranger. He was tired of monotony, tired of drudgery, looking for excitement and something new.

Someone new.

The memory of a dimpled jogger smiling at him flitted across his mind, reminding him of a different time in his life, a time when he could have indulged the ideas that crossed his mind at the inviting sight.

But more strongly his mind honed in on the sight of a sarcastic smile, long dark hair, a teasing scold as if she didn’t think anything of his wealth or position. It was fresh, new, completely exotic compared to the humdrum of his normal interactions.

He was hard, wishing he could feel lips wrapped around him, could enjoy the sight of bouncing breasts above him. It wasn’t Connie he pictured though, banishing the image of the way she had become soft, the way she pushed him aside now for her nonprofit work.

Instead he thought of a tight ass in his hands as she took him into her again and again, and a deep moan slipped from his throat as he wrapped his hand around his erection. He couldn’t get her out of his head, unable to think about anything but how she might taste, the feel of her skin beneath his fingers. Her breasts had been smaller but so pert, high and round on her chest. And the tattoo on her shoulder - something about it stirred his desire, wondering if she had others he could discover.

What noises would she make, what things would she let him do to her? There was a time when Connie had let him lead, had let him make soft demands, eager to please, but now she simply laid back.

Routine.

The light behind Abby’s eyes, the quick wit she displayed, the way she carried herself - he thought about what she would look like on her knees and groaned as the rhythm of his hand sped up. She was vivacious, and something about her tugged at him until he almost wanted to try to tame her, to see her weak and begging for him.

But he thought about what she would feel like, tight and wet around him as he pounded into her, and his mind went blank as he came, softly moaning _‘kitten’_ with his release.

He had to see her again, the memory of her challenging smile too much to bear.

Today was Tuesday, and he’d impulsively asked her schedule so at least that much he could plan for.

And he knew where he’d be Thursday.


	2. Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directly related to Chapter 7's flashback in Just Like Heaven.

“I promise next time we’ll make it to dinner first, gorgeous,” he murmured, feeling languid, so deliciously exhausted he could hardly move. He was still deep inside her, marveling at how tight and wet she was around him. He nuzzled his face into her neck once more, sucking gently at the spot beneath her ear. The release he had just found was better than any he had experienced in months, more than he had thought possible.

So many months of wanting this, and now her legs were spread, she was lying beneath him on the leather seat in his car.

“Next time?” she repeated, and he noticed the way her voice caught on the words, the way it shook slightly with anticipation.

She had wanted him too. The first kiss on the street blazed through his mind and he felt heat pool in his belly again. She was intoxicating, he was drunk from the taste and feel of her, and he smiled against her throat at the way she sounded so desperate for him as well.

“Yes,” he assured her, and he finally raised his head to look down at her. Her chocolate eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed so prettily, her parted lips swollen slightly from the way he had kissed her. “Abby, I - stay with me. I want you to be mine, I want,” he paused, trying to think of the words, the way he could phrase it to convince her. He needed her to stay more than she knew, needed to continue to feel this way, so desired by her. “Let me take care of you like I want to. I care about you - so much, gorgeous.”

A soft look came into her eyes as he said it, but a moment later she frowned and shook her head. “John you’re married -” she protested, but he had expected it.

“Not happily,” he hurried to assure her. He thought of how often Connie had denied him in months past, the way he wondered sometimes if the spark was gone, and he realized it wasn’t fully a lie. They were a good match, or at least, they had been 18 years ago. “But when I’m with you, I’m happy. I’m crazy about you, Abby. I can’t stop thinking about you, I - say you’ll be mine. Say you’ll stay with me. I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Something shifted in her face and she snaked a hand into his hair, hesitating only a moment before she pulled him down to her. The kiss was slow but hungry, as if the words he had spoken had a profound effect on her.

“Yes,” she whispered when she pulled away. “I’ve - I’ve wanted you for so long, John. I - I felt like a silly girl with a crush, hoping you’d like me too -”

“I do, gorgeous,” he told her and pressed a kiss to her lips, followed quickly by another and another. “I do.”

She giggled, her legs tightening around his hips as she did. “Are - are we still going to dinner?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I - have another idea,” he mused slowly, letting one corner of his mouth tug up with the words.

An eager hum sounded from her throat and he reluctantly began to push himself up, sliding out of her as he tried to clear his mind. He gripped the base of his softening cock and slid the condom off. Carefully he tied it before he dug in the pocket on the back of the driver’s seat, grabbing a tissue out of a pack to wrap it in, disposing of it in the small garbage holder near the console.

As he stuffed himself back into his slacks he glanced at her. “There’s a - a hotel nearby,” he suggested slowly, hoping he wasn’t pushing too much.

But the corners of her mouth curled up. “Do they have room service?”

“Of course, gorgeous,” he answered. “Only the best for you, I promise.”

Soft giggles sounded from her as she began to push herself up on the seat, smoothing down her skirt, but she didn’t bother putting her underwear back on. “Oh god is it the Waldorf or something?” she teased as she pulled her cheap, fake leather jacket back on.

He chuckled and shook his head as he finished fixing his clothes. “No, but - maybe next time,” he winked at her and shrugged back into his suit jacket. Opening the car door he slid from the backseat and then held a hand out, helping her to her feet before he slammed the door.

Unable to resist, he stole a searing kiss from her before he opened the passenger side and helped her in. He circled to the driver’s side, glancing around instinctively, suddenly remembering that he shouldn’t be seen doing any of this. But he was smiling to himself, still thinking of how she had felt around him, of the noises she had made, soft cries as she came beneath him. The taste of her still lingered on his tongue as he slid into the driver’s seat, and he grinned at the sight of her beside him.

They were silent as he made his way through the parking garage out onto the street, but she reached over with her hand to hold his on the gearshift, and when he looked at her she smiled.

Finally he pulled into the drive for The Langham, putting the car in park before he reached behind him into the backseat. He picked her underwear off the floor and held them out to her, an eyebrow raised as he watched her take them from him with a blush.

“I don’t want some valet to get it in his head he can take those home,” he told her. “Come on, gorgeous.”

He saw her tuck the underwear into her purse out of the corner of his eye as he stepped out of the driver’s side. She stood by the door and waited as he passed his keys and information to the valet. There was a sense of wonder evident on her face, and he smiled at the sight of it.

This was all new to her, and he loved how she was responding to it all, how out of place she looked. He placed his hand on her lower back to guide her through the doors, and he gave her a quiet command to stay in the lobby while he was at the front desk.

She eagerly nodded, still looking around with her eyes wide. The sight of her every time he glanced behind him while he waited for the reservation to be made set his heart racing. He already wanted her again, and he let his gaze wander over her, thinking about how she was standing in the lobby of a five-star hotel with nothing on under her dress.

The charming smile he gave the front desk agent was met with a knowing nod, but a pleasant and polite, “Enjoy your night, Mr. Miller.”

Abby giggled at the form of address, and again he placed his hand on her lower back as they stepped onto the elevator. When they got to their room he opened the door and watched her face, incredibly pleased to see how her jaw dropped.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “This is - wow.”

She walked slowly into the room, looking around and turning as she did so. John followed and closed the door behind him, leaning against it with his arms folded as he watched her.

“Jesus,” she breathed and then glanced over her shoulder at him. A slow smile spread across her face, but her eyebrow rose as she took in the way he was looking at her. “Let me guess, you see stuff like this all the time?”

He smirked. “I’m simply enjoying the view,” he told her. A softer, almost bashful smile crept onto her face. “Take off your dress so I can look at you.”

Abby bit her lower lip and set her purse down on the sofa beside her before she shrugged out of her jacket and threw it aside as well. She slid her scuffed heels off, still biting her lip as she raised her gaze to his. Pushing first one and then the other shoulder off her dress, she shimmied slightly and the fabric slid to pool at her feet.

He had been able to tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he let his eyes wander over her naked body, noticing the way she shifted slightly on her feet as if she was nervous. Slowly he stalked forward, removing his suit jacket and setting it carefully on the sofa as he passed it.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he told her as he circled around her slowly. Below where her hair hung he saw a few small tattoos, grey semi-circles and crescents, and his eyebrows rose on his forehead. He brushed her hair aside to one shoulder so that he could see her back, and lightly traced a finger down the line of tattoos along her prominent spine.

She was bony, he’d noticed it in the months he’d seen her in the bar, and he worried over how hard she worked, how little it seemed like she ate. He frowned slightly as he ghosted his hand over her ribs, but he knew from now on she’d be taken care of. He meant it, he wanted to take care of her, wanted to give her everything she needed, everything she wanted.

Stepping forward he pulled her back against him, and she tilted her head to offer her bare neck to him. He obliged her with light kisses along the graceful white column, leading down to her shoulder to nibble the grey rose on her soft skin. His hands slid up her waist, admiring how taut her stomach was, how pert and perfect her breasts were when he cupped them.

“I can’t get enough of you, gorgeous,” he told her again, tugging her earlobe with his teeth after he said it.

She sighed happily but then let out a groan of frustration when he released her and stepped back. He began work on the buttons of his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed to slide his shoes off. When he looked back to where she was standing he saw her watching him, her eyes wandering over him as he pulled his shoes and socks off. She hesitated for a moment, and then took a few steps until she was in front of him.

He didn’t even have to encourage her, didn’t have to say a word, she simply sank to her knees before him. Eagerly he watched as she reached for his belt and began to undo it, biting her lower lip and timidly glancing up at him occasionally as she worked to free him. The feeling of her fingers on his hard cock made him groan, and he leaned his head back for a moment as he enjoyed her determined touch.

He snapped his head forward again when he felt the wetness of her mouth, and he watched as she sucked lightly at the very tip of him. Her dark eyes flicked up to his as she opened her mouth wider, sliding further down his length. He twisted a hand into her hair, holding it back so that it wasn’t in the way, so that he could continue to watch her.

“Yes, kitten,” he moaned, smiling encouragingly.

Eagerly she bobbed her head, sucking at him as she tried to take him further down her throat with each movement. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt someone’s mouth on him and he tightened his hand in her hair, tempted for a few moments to let himself finish this way, to watch her swallow his release. The sight of her lips stretched around him was almost too much.

Instead he encouraged her head up and she pulled her mouth off of him with a wet pop. A wicked smile came onto her face and he leaned forward to kiss her deeply, still twisting his hand in her hair as he slanted his mouth against hers. He pulled away and released her hair finally, finishing removing his dress shirt and undershirt, standing so that he could slide off his slacks. After he set the items all carefully on the sofa he took her hand and pulled her to her feet, kissing her and enjoying the feeling of her hot and naked against him.

They both moved closer to the bed, guiding one another until he sat back and brought her with him, laying down as he pulled her over him. She was kissing him just as greedily, her fingers digging into his shoulders and down his arms as she caressed him.

“John,” she murmured as she parted her legs to straddle him. “Do you - do you have another condom?”

“In my wallet, gorgeous,” he purred.

He watched as she bounded off the bed and dug in his pants’ pocket for his wallet. She pulled the packet out and then ripped it open, moving back to straddle him where he lay. Her fingers moved deftly as she slid the condom down him, and she lifted her hips so that she could slowly sink onto him. The way that she threw her head back and moaned made him throb, and he gripped her ass in his hands, gently encouraging her to begin moving.

She started bouncing on him, rolling her hips and moving quickly as she let out soft whimpers and cries. The sight of her breasts moving with each thrust, the way her brows were furrowed slightly each time she took him deeper into her were addictive, better than his imaginings. When her moans became louder he moved a thumb to swirl over her clit and she cried out, rolling her hips in search of more friction against him.

“That’s it, kitten, come again for me,” he groaned, watching her face intently, wanting to see how she looked as she came.

Her orgasm hit her and she called out, her rhythm stuttering as she shuddered, grabbing at his arms as if to steady herself. “John,” she moaned, but he tightened his hands on her hips and lifted her again, thrusting up into her as he chased his release. She swayed above him, whimpering each time he pushed into her. When he came he saw her smile, and she rolled her hips as she watched him.

He pulled her down to him when he was done, cupping the back of her head and kissing every inch of her face. She was giggling softly, and put one hand on his jaw, returning his kisses eagerly.

“Kitten,” he murmured, “you - god, you’re amazing.”

“Of course I am,” she purred, and then she giggled when she saw the smile that spread across his face. He rolled them over, kissing her neck, nipping lightly as he went. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

He chuckled at the teasing in her tone, but with a sigh he pushed himself up and away from her. His legs were unsteady as he walked to the bathroom, and he rolled his head on his shoulders as he disposed of the condom and cleaned himself up. She was perfection, greedy for him, wanting to please him just as much as he wanted to do the same for her. It had been so long since he felt this, invigorated, desired.

She was everything he’d been missing.

He grabbed the robe hanging on the back of the door and pulled it on as he sauntered out of the bathroom. The sight that greeted him made him stop in his tracks, a slow smile crossing his face.

Abby had put his dress shirt on, and she was jumping on the bed, smiling and carefree. When she saw him she leapt once more into the air and pulled her legs up, letting herself land and bounce on her hands and knees as she giggled. “Sorry, I had to test it,” she told him, and she raised a hand to chew on a thumb as if embarrassed.

But the sight of her, flushed from lovemaking and jumping on the bed of a luxury hotel room, wearing his shirt - all he did was smile and walk forward. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, the kiss interrupted by the way they kept smiling at one another, laughing softly as they did.

“You said something about room service?” She finally pulled away and pushed lightly on his chest. “I’m starving, we worked up quite the appetite.”

“You’re right, we did,” he pressed one last kiss to her lips before he straightened and walked to the desk to find the menu. When he handed it to her he smiled. “Get whatever you like, gorgeous. Should we get a bottle of wine?”

Something shifted in her eyes and she looked down as if she was suddenly hesitant. “I’m - John, I’m only twenty.”

He shrugged, remembering she had mentioned once about sneaking shots of whiskey at work and worrying someone would catch her. But he smiled reassuringly at her. “And? I’ll pick it out, if you’d like. Or would you prefer champagne?”

She paused for a moment and then passed the menu back to him. “I don’t know anything about champagne,” she muttered.

He smiled and took the menu, looking it over with his lips pursed. “I’ll pick then. What would you like to eat, gorgeous?”

“How much can I order? I’m so hungry,” she groaned and stood beside him to look at the options.

“As much as you want,” he assured her. “You look like you hardly eat anything.”

“I’m broke,” she answered softly. “I eat when I - when I can.”

His heart ached at the words, and he looked over the menu, determined to order a few appetizers and desserts too. “We’ll fix that,” he said, and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

She simply giggled and then pointed at an item on the menu. “That looks good,” she told him, raising her gaze to his as if asking permission because of the price.

“Of course,” he nodded and gave her a smile.

She crawled back onto the bed, searching for the TV remote as he dialed the number for room service. “Do you like chocolate, kitten?” he asked.

“I love chocolate,” she answered eagerly.

Before he could say anything the operator answered and he put in the order while he watched her flip channels. She stopped on _The Office_ and smiled, settling back on the pillows with a hand behind her head. He hung up the phone and joined her, and she rolled closer to put her head on his shoulder.

“I love this show, I haven’t seen it in ages, I -” she paused and bit her lip, not finishing the thought.

“You what?” he prompted her gently.

“I had to cancel our cable and sell our TV,” she told him softly. “To help buy meds.”

“I’m sorry, Abby,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to her forehead again. “How is she, by the way?”

“Better, they - your friend helped,” she looked up at him and smiled. “They maybe finally got her on a med that will keep her from having the side effects from the chemo. Hopefully she’ll stop getting so dehydrated now.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. They fell into comfortable silence as she snuggled against him, watching and laughing at the show. It wasn’t one he necessarily cared for, but the way she was so content in his arms watching TV was enough for him. He felt possessive pride at the sight of her wearing his shirt, thinking it looked right - all of this, new and exciting, felt so right.

When room service knocked at the door he noticed that she tensed a little and looked at him, skittish and concerned. “Don’t worry, gorgeous,” he assured her, and he went to let them in.

The young man walked into the room pushing a fully loaded cart and began to set it up, lifting silver lids to show John, ensuring that it was the correct items. John signed the bill and left a more than adequate tip, winking at the waiter as he passed it over, and he was greeted again with an understanding nod.

“Would you like for me to open the champagne, Mr. Miller?” the waiter asked, but John shook his head.

“No, I’ve got it, thank you,” he answered. He noticed the waiter’s eyes flit to where Abby was lying on the bed just once, and he frowned before he shifted slightly so that he was blocking the young man’s line of sight.

The waiter cleared his throat and looked up, nodding once more. “Have a good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

He bowed himself out of the room, and when he closed the door behind him Abby burst into giggles. “Mrs. Miller?” she repeated, but she shook her head and walked over to the cart that had been left for them.

“I checked us in as Mr. and Mrs.,” John told her as he picked up the champagne and wrapped it in a towel to begin to open it.

“That’s not suspicious at all,” she mused wryly, but she opened the small platter that had the chocolate mousse he had ordered for her and squealed. “I didn’t - ooooo that looks so good!”

“I thought you’d like it,” he said. He got the champagne open with a loud pop and poured them both a glass, passing hers to her with a smile. “Cheers, gorgeous.”

She giggled more, clinking her glass against his before she took a sip. Her eyes widened and she smacked her lips, taking another drink and smiling. “It’s delicious.”

“Like I said, only the best for you.”

They smiled at one another for a few moments, and then her stomach growled and she grabbed her plate. “Thank you for dinner,” she teased softly, smirking when he caught her eye.

As they ate they talked and joked easily, flipping channels together after the show she had had on ended. When he tried to leave it on the news she rolled her eyes and playfully snatched the remote from him, and they fell back on the sofa as he tickled her in his attempts to get it back.

She tasted like chocolate and champagne when he kissed her, and she moaned softly as he ran his hands under the shirt she was wearing. But he didn’t have any more condoms, and so he relinquished the remote and pressed one last kiss to her lips before he sat up again.

“What if we watch a movie?” she suggested breathlessly, turning to the channel menu. “I’m not tired yet, unless you are?”

The way she said it mockingly made him raise an eyebrow, but he smirked and shook his head. “Whatever you like,” he said.

She smiled and scrolled through the options, leaning back against him as she tried to decide. “Oh! I really wanted to see this one, but I - I missed it in theaters, I couldn’t -” she muttered, trailing off in excitement. “Do you mind? I - I doubt it’s really your thing…”

He glanced away from where he’d been admiring her and saw that she was talking about _Alice in Wonderland_ , and he bit back the sigh that wanted to escape his throat. “If you wanted to see it, we can watch it,” he agreed. “Are you done eating? We can curl up in bed with the champagne.”

“Sounds good,” she said, eagerly bouncing off the sofa and taking her glass of champagne with her. She ordered the movie and curled up under the covers, pulling them back invitingly for him.

He sat beside her, setting his glass of champagne on the nightstand before he fished for his phone in the pocket of his slacks.

_Late night?_

With a glance to the side at Abby he swiped open the text from Connie.

_Yes. Sorry, don’t know when I’ll be home, something came up with the case._

A few minutes passed and he realized he had missed the text by half an hour. But his phone vibrated and he quickly opened the text.

_Ok. I’ll probably be in bed when you come home. Good luck with the case._

_Thanks. I’ll try to be quiet when I come in, but if it’s late enough I may just stay here. Good night._

_Poor guy, try to get some sleep. Good night xo_

He set his phone aside and put his arm around Abby, sipping his champagne as he tried to focus on the movie. Instead his attention kept getting easily stolen by the vision of her laying against him, reclining in his arms as she watched the movie with rapt attention. As time went on, though, he noticed her eyelids drooping, her breathing deeper and slower.

Not tired, she’d said.

He smiled softly to himself when he realized she had fallen asleep, peacefully lulled into slumber in his arms, the corners of her lips almost tugging up as if she was smiling. As soon as he was certain she was asleep he turned the movie off, switching to the news and enjoying the feeling of her resting against him as he sipped champagne and caught up on the day’s events.

When he was tired he finally shut off the TV and slid out from under her, going to brush his teeth and taking off the robe before he got back in bed. He settled her in his arms again, and she mumbled incoherently in her sleep as she nuzzled against him.

His alarm was set for much earlier than normal, so that he could make it into the office for his change of clothes before anyone saw him. But he didn’t think about that, instead he pressed his lips to the top of her head and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of her as he drifted off.

 

* * *

 

“Abby, wake up,” he murmured, shaking her shoulder gently as he tried to ease her out of slumber. “I need my shirt, I have to go.”

“Hmmm?” she hummed, blinking her eyes open as she tried to gather her senses. “Wha’ time is it?”

“It’s early,” John answered. “I just need my shirt, you can go back to sleep. Check out isn’t until eleven, and I’ve already taken care of everything. Just leave the key in the room.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed again, and she pushed herself up and pulled the shirt over her head. “John?”

“Yes, gorgeous?” He took the shirt from her and began to put it on, loving that it smelled like her, that it was warm.

“Thank you,” she sighed. “I had a good time.”

“I did too,” he told her. “I’m putting my number in your phone, can you send me a text while I finish getting ready?”

She nodded and took the phone from him, rubbing at an eye with a hand as she typed out a text with the other. His phone beeped and he smiled, finishing tucking his shirt in. When he looked at his phone before he slid it into his pocket, his heart raced at the text on the screen.

_Hey handsome, it’s your kitten._

“I’ll text you later, all right?” He leaned one knee on the bed and pulled her to him, lacing his fingers in her hair as he kissed her deeply.

“Sounds good,” she agreed, smiling breathlessly when he pulled away.

“I’m leaving cab fare in your purse, just get the valet to get one for you,” he told her. “Want to make certain you get home safe. See you soon, kitten.”

“Yes, please, handsome,” she breathed, and he pressed another deep kiss to her.

He wished he could stay instead of sneaking out before the dawn, but he pulled his suit jacket on and crossed the room, checking his pockets as he walked. With one last glance at where she was settling back into the bed, he smiled and left the room.

Absently he smoothed the front of his shirt as he rode the elevator down, hoping he was the first one into the office so that no one noticed his wrinkled shirt. They were all discreet enough no one would mention anything, but he still didn’t like the idea of anyone knowing he hadn’t made it home last night.

After he settled the bill but told them to leave the room checked in until later, he went to wait for the valet to get his car. His mind was racing, despite how tired he felt, and he wished he had time to take a run like he did every morning to wake up. Yet somehow he felt energized if not foggy, the memories of the night before playing through his mind as he drove through Manhattan.

When he got to the office, he was grateful to find that he was the first one there, and he changed quickly into some of the fresh clothes he kept there for late nights or just in case. Before he began work he opened his schedule and looked through it, trying to find the next time he could get away with coming home late.

His secretary was surprised to see him already at work, but he brushed off her astonishment and asked her to call Connie’s secretary to figure out her schedule for the next week. She knew enough not to ask questions, and simply hurried off to make the call and grab him his usual black coffee. He felt fairly certain he remembered Connie saying she would be staying a night or two in Connecticut for a business trip, but he couldn’t remember what days.

The whole day he was on autopilot, his mind still focused on remembering how she had felt, how she had tasted, how deeply he had slept with her curled up in his arms. The routine and monotony of work was welcome because it meant he could be distracted, allowed to indulge in his fantasies of when he could see her again.

“Oh, and I talked to Jill, Connie’s secretary, and she’s out of town Sunday and Monday for the conference,” his secretary told him as she handed over the salad she had gotten him for lunch.

“Thank you, I was trying to remember,” he chuckled and nodded. “So much going on with this case, slipped my mind.”

“Of course, Mr. Baker,” his secretary simply said, smiling and nodding before she left his office.

He checked his watch and opened his phone, typing out a text to the contact he had named **Kitten**.

_Are you free Sunday and Monday?_

A few moments passed before his phone vibrated and he eagerly hurried to pick it up.

_I have homework Sunday, finals are coming up and I have an essay to write. Monday I have class at 1 and 4._

He pursed his lips as he thought, but he quickly typed out a reply.

_Could you bring your homework with you? I was thinking we could get our same room at The Langham and stay in Sunday, have a lazy day. Monday we can do dinner out._

The wait between texts left him feeling impatient, but he also realized that she wrote full sentences, not the shorthand he had expected of someone her age. He wondered if she was doing it to impress him or if she always texted that way. Whichever it was, he appreciated it.

_Yeah, I could bring it with me, just need my laptop and some books._

He smiled, wiping his mouth with a napkin before he texted back.

_I’ll make a reservation, pack your homework and an overnight bag. You’ll need a nice dress for Monday night, what size are you?_

He opened the reservation page for the Langham to get the number, dialing it in his office phone while he waited for her reply.

_Size 0, but you don’t have to get me a dress, I can get one._

He balanced the phone with his shoulder and began his reply, but got interrupted when the reservation agent picked up. While he made the reservation he slowly texted a response, but before he could he got another text from her.

_Seriously it’s fine, I’d feel bad if you got me one._

John shook his head and erased what he had typed.

_My treat. I’ll bring it with me. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up Sunday around 3pm._

He hit send as he finished making the reservation, and hung up the phone before he thought of something else.

_Oh, and please just text this number outside of business hours. I won’t be able to take calls if I’m at home._

The silence irritated him as he waited, checking his phone every few minutes. Finally it buzzed again and he almost hated how quickly he picked it up.

_Ok. I’ll see you then._

He frowned, wondering at the short reply, the length of time he’d had to wait for it. But he decided to let it slide, still thinking about the night before and how eager she was for him.

_Looking forward to it, gorgeous._

Almost immediately he got a reply, and his doubts about her short response fled.

_Me too, handsome. Can’t wait. **;-***_

The whole rest of the day he smiled as he continued his work, memories of her and eager anticipation for Sunday making the drudgery more bearable than it had been in years.


	3. Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating tags on this fic as we go along, and trying to keep them accurate just in case we enter anything that could be a squick. That shouldn't be the case, but may as well because why not. I wasn't lying when I tagged that OC is a bit of a perv.
> 
> Oh, and I forgot to specify but this story began in 2010 when they met.
> 
> Have a ton of smut and lots of feels.

_Do you want to play tonight, Kitten?_

John hit send and pocketed his phone before dragging his hand down his chin, tilting it slightly as he did to check his reflection in the doors of the elevator. He needed a shave, but it could wait. He knew Abby liked him scruffy, and tonight was a special occasion.

Six months.

Normally he wouldn't celebrate anything so trivial, but she'd said it was the longest she'd been with anyone. And for him, it was the happiest six months he could remember. He felt like celebrating, even something as simple as a six month anniversary.

Yet another morning had passed of hardly a word spoken between he and Connie, but it had been that way for weeks, at least. They were both busy, his cases more taxing than normal, her nonprofit work entering its busy season.

Not that it bothered him, not really. Not anymore.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, opening the text and smiling when he saw the reply.

_Yes, please, handsome._

With a smirk he typed out his instructions, grateful for the long elevator ride down from the penthouse.

_Wear the red dress I got you, your stilettos, and the locket. Your warmest coat, it’s supposed to be cold tonight. Nothing else. I have a treat for you if you're good._

Almost immediately,

_Yes, handsome._

Pocketing his phone once more he tried to hide the smile on his face, the wide grin he wanted to wear as the elevator doors opened finally. He crossed the lobby, nodding a silent greeting to the doorman as always as he stepped out to his car.

His drive across town was monotonous but gave him time to think and clear his head before court. But all he wanted to do was think about her, and think about what the evening held in store.

It had started simply, one night in the heat of the moment asking if she wanted to play. He'd been removing his tie and suddenly thought about how much he wanted to see her bound so that he could tease her, could take charge completely. When she had eagerly agreed and told him afterwards how much fun she'd had, it had become a request he made occasionally, always giving her the chance to say no. So far she'd always agreed, almost sounding weak and begging for their games.

Asking her to begin this early in the day while they were apart made the anticipation greater, until he was already checking his watch constantly as soon as he got to the courthouse. Their date for the night had already been arranged; dinner in the corner booth of their favorite restaurant, the same room they always had at the Langham, ever since that first night. But now his request had made him antsy, nearly unable to wait the whole day.

When he stepped out of the courtroom for a short recess he checked his watch, taking a moment to remember her schedule with the new semester. She was at work right now, not in class. Perfect.

_Kitten, I have a ten minute recess. Time to play?_

He glanced up and down the hallway but hardly a moment passed before he got the reply.

_Yes, handsome. Text you when I'm done._

John hid his grin behind a hand, looking around again before he walked to get a coffee. While he waited in line he thought about where she might be doing it, wondering what she was wearing and if anyone would come close to catching her.

He traded his cash for coffee at the small cart and meandered to a corner of the lobby, thinking of her but trying to keep his body under control. Later, there would be hours later in which he could indulge, with her and not just memories of her. Time when he could do every little thing to her that crossed his mind.

His phone went off and he checked his watch with a smile before he pulled it out of his pocket and opened the text.

_Mmm, handsome, that was perfect. I’d been thinking about you all day. Thank you._

_Where are you?_ He texted back.

_The keg room, I was finishing changing a keg when you texted me._

_Do you want to again?_

_Yes, may I?_

He stared at the text, his fingers hovering over the small keys of his BlackBerry as he debated. As tempting as it was to think about, he also loved the idea of driving her crazy by denying her. Later, she could wait until later.

When he could be the one doing it to her.

_No, Kitten. Not unless I tell you that you can._

A few moments passed and he began to walk back in the direction of the courtroom, wondering a bit if she’d disobey. He couldn’t tell if he almost wanted her to, because of the rules they had come up with when they’d decided to make this occasional arrangement. He’d been certain to negotiate something in case she didn’t do as he asked when they were playing, considering how headstrong she always was.

But so far she was still so eager to please, so happy to do as he asked her, trusting and so very giving.

 _Yes, handsome. I’ll see you later, good luck in court._ **_;-*_ **

With one last smile he pocketed his phone and headed back into court, eager to finish up his day so that he could see her.

 

* * *

 

Abby was waiting for him outside her building, just as always, and with one glance John could tell she had followed his instructions. He pulled up to the curb and she opened the passenger side door, smiling brightly as she got in and threw her overnight bag in the back.

“Do I get a hello, Kitten?” he asked. She leaned across the console and wrapped her arms around his neck so that she could press a deep kiss to his lips. When she pulled away she was still smiling at him, and the sight made his heart race faster, even after all these months. “Are you warm enough or do you need to get another layer or some gloves, maybe?”

“I’m fine, handsome,” she replied easily. She leaned back and fastened her seatbelt, then looked at him expectantly.

Without another word he pulled away from the curb and back into traffic, holding his hand out for her to take. She slid her thin fingers into his, and he noticed the absence of the rings she normally wore.

She really had followed his instructions to the letter.

They caught up on one another’s days, the days that they had been apart, carefree and relaxed as he drove them across town. Once at the restaurant he valeted the car and escorted her inside. They were welcomed back by the hostess as she led them to their table - the back booth, in the corner where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

After he ordered them a bottle of wine he looked her over, admiring the way the red dress hugged her curves, the way the silver locket he had given her hung between the top slopes of her breasts.

She had gotten her hair cut recently, and he still wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about it. After she had mentioned that it was bothering her at the length it was, he had given her the money to go to a nice stylist. He had loved her hair long and dark, rather than collarbone length and slightly golden at the ends from the way she’d had them lighten it a bit. It made her look slightly older, she’d lost a bit of the wide-eyed youth she had had when he met her.

Then again something about the way she styled it pleased him, the way it almost seemed to emphasize her free-spirited personality. It suited her, even if he missed her long hair hanging around his face or spread out on the pillow when they were in bed together.

When they had put in their order and were sipping their wine, he pulled her closer to him in the booth with one arm around her shoulders.

“Did you do as I asked, Kitten?” he murmured in her ear.

She giggled and nodded. “Yes, handsome, I did.”

He glanced around, but no one was near them, and the table was partially hidden by décor and the layout of the room. Setting his wine on the table he reached his free hand under the table and slid it along her thigh. She parted her legs slightly, and sure enough when his touch reached the space between them he found her bare, only soft skin greeting his searching fingers.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Are you wet?”

She nodded, her breath catching as his fingers continued to search lower. “Please -”

“Not until later, Kitten,” he told her, even as he teased her with a finger running between her folds. Just as she said she was wet, and he dipped a fingertip in her briefly before he removed his hand. Her eyes were wide when she looked at him, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she watched him suck the tip of his finger.

“God, John,” she breathed, her voice shaky, and she averted her gaze to take a sip of wine. She was flushed, but not as if she was embarrassed, and he smirked as he thought about how much he was teasing her. It would make later that much more enjoyable.

“You look so beautiful like that,” he said, picking up his wine glass once more.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Flushed and wanting me,” he answered, and he winked when she raised her gaze to his.

“Of course I do, I -” but she trailed off and took a long gulp of wine.

He opened his mouth to tease her some more, to ask her about earlier that day; but a familiar voice rang out nearby and he looked up.

“John? I thought that was you!”

A tall woman with chin length black hair was walking toward their table and waving, and John quickly removed his arm from Abby’s shoulders. She seemed to stiffen and deflate at the same time, obviously tense and yet seemingly trying to hide herself by slouching and looking down at her glass.

“How are you?” the woman asked when she stopped by the table and smiled at him. Her gaze wandered to Abby beside him and he saw the briefest frown quirk her brow before she looked to him once more.

“Jill! I’m doing fine, how are you?” he asked, and he pushed himself out of the booth and stood to shake her hand. He was grateful his secretary always repeated her name so he remembered it, so that he could greet her as if everything was perfectly normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Oh fine, just having dinner with my daughter,” she pointed to a table behind her and he followed the gesture, plastering on a smile as he did so. “Got up to come to the bathroom and saw you, figured I’d come say hello.”

“I’m glad you did, it’s been - what, since last year’s Christmas party?” he chuckled after he said it, casually putting a hand in his pocket. “You’re looking good, Jill. Hopefully Connie isn’t working you too hard.”

“No, no, she isn’t,” Jill said, and then something shifted in her eyes as she looked at him. “Say isn’t she in Newark tonight for that conference? I was trying to reach her but I couldn’t, I was hoping everything was going smoothly so far.”

“Everything’s fine as far as I know, she texted and said she’d checked into her hotel without issue,” he answered, resisting the scowl that wanted to come across his face. “You make her schedule and the arrangements though, surely you’d know.”

“Right, right,” Jill laughed and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Just so distracted with my daughter being in town. I forgot my work phone at the office and was concerned I’d missed a call from her or something.”

“No, things are going well as far as I know,” he assured her. “No need for concern. Besides, you’re off for the evening and the boss is out of town, enjoy your dinner with your daughter. No need to worry about Connie.”

For a moment Jill stared at him and then she seemed to remember herself and she laughed. “You’re right, just - you know me, always on the clock,” she shook her head and looked as if she was going to begin to walk away. “Oh, I’m being so rude, I didn’t introduce myself - I’m Jill, I work for his wife.”

She held a hand out to Abby over the table, and for a moment Abby simply stared at it. But she resisted looking to John for guidance, and seemed to hold herself a little straighter as she reached out to take Jill’s outstretched hand.

“Abby,” she greeted, her voice firmer than he expected it to be. “Nice to meet you, Jill.”

“And how do you two know one another?” Jill asked, gesturing between John and Abby with a frown and a bemused smile.

“She’s a student at NYU, I’m mentoring her,” John answered easily. “Her professor is a friend of mine, and she’s top of her class. He asked me to give her some in-depth guidance on some things, said she shows a lot of promise.”

“I see,” Jill said, nodding as she said it. “Well, don’t let me interrupt a good mentoring session. It was good to see you John, and nice to meet you, Abby. Good luck with your studies.”

Abby smiled, muttering a soft _‘thank you’_ as John nodded a farewell to Jill. She glanced one last time at him with a small smile and then turned to walk away. John watched her go for a moment and then slid back into the booth, picking up his glass of wine once more.

“Fuck, John - she works for your wife -” Abby hissed, putting her forehead in her hand.

“It’s fine, gorgeous,” he assured her.

“How is it fine?” she asked, raising her head to stare at him. Her eyes were wide and she almost looked close to tears.

“It’s for me to worry about, not you,” he told her. He leaned forward, closer to her, and gave her a reassuring smile. “Come on, gorgeous, we have our favorite dishes coming, we’ve still got wine. Don’t let it spoil the evening.”

“I - I just - I don’t want this to ruin things,” she muttered, and she picked up the glass of wine in front of her and took a deep gulp.

“It won’t, I promise,” he said. He reached for the bottle on their table and refilled their glasses before he gave her another reassuring smile. “Come on, give me a smile, Kitten. We’re celebrating tonight, remember?”

She chewed her lip for a moment before she nodded and smiled. “You’re - you’re right,” she agreed.

The rest of the dinner they talked easily, though he didn’t pull her close to him or try to tease her again, holding off on his plans until they were alone in the hotel room together. He didn’t let his mind linger on it, deciding it was something he could worry about later. For now, he was out with her, and he was determined to enjoy himself.

When their dessert was brought out he glanced at the table Jill was sitting at and saw that she and her daughter were standing up to leave. She glanced back at him and waved and he returned the gesture, smiling as if everything was normal.

After he was certain she had left he reached in the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small, robin’s egg blue box and set it on the table beside Abby.

“I - what’s this?” she asked, her eyes wide as she set down her glass of wine and reached tentatively for the box.

“A present,” he answered simply, leaning back and resting an arm behind her on the booth. “For the happiest six months of my life. Open it, gorgeous.”

He watched as she traced a finger over the small black lettering that said _Tiffany & Co. _ and then carefully began to open it. When she saw the diamond studs her breath caught in her throat and she glanced up at him, her eyes wide.

“John, I - you didn’t have to - it’s just six months, it’s so silly,” she began to protest, but he chuckled and shook his head.

“Put them on, Abby,” he insisted. “I want to see how they look.”

She almost looked like she wanted to protest again, but she did as he instructed and put them both on. He brushed her hair back behind her ears so he could look at them, smiling at the sight of the large diamonds sparkling against her creamy skin.

“Thank you, so much,” she told him, giving him a bright smile. “They’re beautiful, I - god, I never thought - now I feel silly.”

“What for?” he asked, frowning as he watched her dig in the small purse she had brought with her.

“I - I got you something too,” she said, and she passed over a carefully wrapped small box. “But it’s - ridiculous compared to what you got me.”

He set his wine down and tore open the cheap red wrapping, taking note of the modest white box beneath the paper. Resting inside was a set of cufflinks - sharks, to be exact. For a moment he stared at them, and then he began to chuckle, taking one between his fingers to inspect. They seemed to be actual sterling silver, and he briefly wondered if she’d had to save up to get them.

“Do - do you like them?” she asked tentatively.

“Of course I do,” he answered, and he set the one he held back in the box so he could set to work removing the platinum double-knotted cufflinks he was currently wearing. “They’re perfect, gorgeous - just like you.”

She giggled and shook her head. “You’re just being nice,” she teased. “You get me diamonds and I get you a joke.”

“They remind me of the first day we met,” he told her as he began to put the cufflinks in. “All those months ago, and now look at us. I love them, Abby.”

Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but instead she smiled and looked down at her chocolate mousse. “I’m glad.”

 

* * *

 

The staff at The Langham greeted them familiarly, addressing them as Mr. and Mrs. Miller, welcoming them back with smiles and polite conversation. John refused help up from the bellhops, since he and Abby only had one bag each, and he didn’t want to deal with tipping and making conversation as they headed up.

Instead he shot her winks as they rode the elevator up, smiling as he thought of his day-long anticipation for this. Once in their room they set their things in their usual places, hanging things in the wardrobe and making themselves at home. There was champagne chilling just as he had requested, and a single red rose sitting beside it in a beautiful vase. When she noticed she looked up and smiled at him, a soft look in her eyes.

She walked to the middle of the room and turned to face him, clasping her hands before herself as she met his gaze. There was no challenge there, no denial, just gentle expectation and eager anticipation. He removed his suit jacket and hung it before he slowly began to stalk forward, looking over her waiting for him.

“Were you good today, Kitten?” he asked, and she nodded. “Did you follow my instructions earlier and wait for me to tell you when?”

“Yes, handsome,” she answered, and she shifted slightly as he walked around her.

“Good girl,” he praised. He stopped behind her and reached for the zipper of her dress, slowly undoing it to reveal the line of tattoos, the moon phases sketched in grey that he loved to trace when he undressed her. “Take your dress off.”

She did as he asked, letting it fall simply to her feet without a word. Her skin prickled with goose bumps when he trailed a finger along her back, and he smiled at the sight.

“Do you still want to play tonight, Kitten?” he asked. He always made sure, especially when he had asked so much earlier in the day. It was always her decision, it had to be her decision.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, and she almost looked a bit as if she was shaking with her eagerness.

He circled back to stand in front of her, taking off his tie as he did. “Give me your wrists,” he instructed, and she held out her hands palm to palm. He bound her wrists together with his tie, making sure his knot was secure before he released her. “Get on the bed, on your back.”

She bit her lip and turned to the bed, walking carefully in her heels until she could kneel on the bed. He watched as she laid back on the pillows, placing her bound hands above her head, and he walked to the end of the bed.

“Spread your legs for me, Kitten,” he said, and she slowly parted her knees until her legs were spread wide. “Keep them like that.”

“Yes, handsome,” she agreed.

He smirked and walked to the nightstand, opening it to grab the hotel sleeping mask that rested there. Kneeling one knee on the bed beside her he placed it over her eyes, and she smiled when he finished situating it.

He let his touch linger on her face, tracing a finger over her lips, and she tilted her head up slightly as if expecting a kiss or something more. As soon as she did he removed his hands and stood up again, taking a moment to take in the way she almost seemed to pout with disappointment.

Turning to walk along the edge of the bed, he ghosted a hand down her chest as he passed her, and she almost shuddered at his teasing touch. But he wanted to make her wait, and he knew how much she enjoyed it as well. So he walked to the mini bar and picked up a glass, taking a small bottle of scotch to fix himself a drink.

When he turned back around he admired the sight of her as he walked to the edge of the bed again, letting his gaze wander over every inch of her. She had put on a slight bit of weight in the last six months, no longer looking on the verge of sickly. Instead she looked healthy and glowing, her breasts slightly plumper, her hips gently curved now rather than being quite so bony.

Her skin was soft and so inviting, and he let his free hand trail down the inside of one thigh, his gaze fixed on the place between her legs, smirking when he noticed just how wet she already was. She had begun shaving after he mentioned it, and he let a finger ghost over the smooth skin before he ran it up to her navel.

She sucked her breath in but didn’t say anything, seeming to struggle against her desire to ask him for more. He sauntered to the side of the bed again to have easier access to her, and took a sip of scotch as he lightly circled one of her pert nipples with a light touch. Again she shuddered and almost let out a whimper, and he rewarded her by twirling the hardened peak between two fingers.

Leaning over her he tipped his glass slowly to pour a small amount of his drink between her breasts, and she flinched slightly in response. He moved quickly, running his tongue over the amber liquid to drink it up before he slid his mouth to her other breast, capturing it with a hand and his tongue. When she cried out he quickly released her, and again she pouted at the loss of his caresses.

He set his drink aside on the nightstand and undid a few buttons of his shirt, removing the cufflinks she had given him so that he could roll his sleeves up. After he walked to the end of the bed he kicked his shoes off and removed his socks, still admiring the way she was trying not to squirm where she lay.

His lips against the inside of her thigh drew a soft moan from her throat, and he smirked as he repeated the gesture on the other leg. He touched her first with a finger, swirling it over her pearl before he slid it lower to her wetness and pushed it inside torturously slow.

“You were good today, Kitten,” he told her. “Did you enjoy the play time I gave you?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her tone breathless as her limbs trembled on either side of his head.

“Did you finger your tight little pussy while you did it?” he asked, thrusting the finger he had within her lightly as he said it. She fluttered around him and he smirked when he realized how close she must already be, just from anticipating him.

“Yes,” she answered again.

“Were you thinking about me when you came?” he flicked his tongue along her pearl after he said it, and when she gave her affirmative answer it sounded more like a strangled cry. “And you didn’t do it again when I told you not to, even though you wanted to?”

“No, handsome,” she rushed to assure him. “I only did it when you told me I could.”

“Good girl,” he praised and he ran his tongue more slowly along her. “Do you want your treat, Kitten?”

“Yes, please,” she begged, her knees swaying slightly as she tried to resist closing them in response to his tongue teasing along her folds.

“You remember what I want you to do?” he paused to ask, and she whimpered out another desperate ‘ _yes_.’

After her answer he slid his tongue on her pearl, slowly lapping at her as he continued moving the finger he had inside her. In hardly any time at all he felt her flutter again and he lifted his mouth from her to pull her back from the edge. She whimpered, and after a moment he returned his tongue to her, but removed it when he felt her clench more tightly around him.

Her moans were getting more desperate, her legs shaking next to his ears, and he watched her face to gauge how close she was. When he gave another flick of his tongue she cried out softly, and he repeated the action once more to get her closer.

“Please, please, handsome,” she begged breathlessly. “Please.”

“What does a good little Kitten do?” he reminded her, still curling his finger inside her as she fluttered around it. Any minute now, if she wasn’t careful, and he couldn’t tell which he’d enjoy more, denying her longer or watching her disobey.

She almost groaned but then said, “Please, I want to come, handsome. Can I come?”

“Not yet,” he instructed her, and he slid his tongue along her a few more times as he listened to her breathing become ragged. She was tightening around him, so close her body was tensed, and yet still she was trying to do as he commanded, trying to keep herself from giving in.

“Can I come now, please?” she begged again, and the fluttering around his finger intensified until he almost thought she was without his permission. But she was taking deep breaths, and he could tell she was struggling to do as he told her. “Please may I come?”

“Yes, Kitten,” he lifted his mouth for just a moment to tell her, and as soon as he pressed his tongue to her again she nearly screamed. Her whole body shook, her hips rolling against his mouth, clenching at his finger so much he was marveling at just how intensely she was falling apart because of him.

When she went limp he finally pushed himself up and removed his finger, leaning over her and pressing his fingertip to her mouth. She eagerly parted her lips and he slid his finger into her mouth so that she could suck her wetness off of it, drawing a soft moan from his throat.

“You’re so good, Kitten,” he praised her, removing his finger and bending to brush his lips against hers. “So fucking good.”

“Thank you, handsome,” she sighed.

“Did you enjoy your treat?” he asked as he stood from the bed and began to remove the rest of his clothes.

“Yes, I did, thank you,” she breathed, and he watched as she strained against the tie around her wrists as if impatient.

Finally naked he knelt on the bed between her legs, lifting her hips into his lap and angling himself to her. He slid slowly into her, his eyes fixated on her face to see the way she moaned, the way her neck arched as he thrust deep.

Once he rested within her fully he paused, teasing her with the presence of him inside her but not moving. She whined softly and tried to wiggle her hips instinctively, but he tightened his grip to hold her still for a few moments longer. When he did begin thrusting he pulled back all the way before he slammed back into her and she cried out with each thrust forward, fluttering around him again already.

Gradually he increased his pace until he was fucking her hard and fast, the headboard rattling slightly against the wall, each of his movements drawing a cry like a sob from her. He began stroking her pearl with his thumb and she whimpered immediately. She was trying to brace herself to respond to his thrusts with her own, but her heels were impeding her and all she could do was take him as he pounded into her.

“Please - I want to - can I - _fuck_ -” she cried out, her moaned and gasped responses to his touch interrupting her request. She was close, and he considered denying her for a moment, but instead he worked harder to push her over the edge, smirking at the way she was attempting to resist it. He watched as she tried to begin the question again but fell apart instead, her back arching as she cried his name.

She throbbed around him and he thrust deep, lost at the feeling of her powerful release as he let himself spill into her. When his vision cleared again he took a few moments to try to catch his breath, taking longer than normal to regain his senses.

Sliding her out of his lap, he stayed still as he watched his spend leaking out of her, feeling possessive pride at the sight. He’d paid for her IUD for this reason, able to marvel at the way he could claim her like this without worrying, no longer having to fuss with condoms each time. It had opened them up to spontaneity, now, and he took advantage of it as often as he could.

His senses regained, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her, his tongue delving into her mouth. It was the first deep kiss since he’d picked her up in the car, and he let himself enjoy it before he broke away.

Gently he untied her wrists and removed the eye mask, and he searched her gaze as she peered up at him. When she simply smiled breathlessly and used a hand to push her hair off her forehead, he felt assured that she really had wanted to play and had enjoyed herself.

“Thank you for play time, Kitten,” he told her, the usual signal they had naturally agreed upon.

With a giggle she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her for a kiss, finally able to touch him as she wanted to.

“That was wonderful, John,” she breathed when she pulled away.

“You’re wonderful,” he answered, kissing the tip of her nose after he said it. “I have champagne and I’ll draw a bubble bath for us, Kitten.”

She giggled some more and nodded eagerly, kissing him one last time before he pushed himself off the bed. He opened the champagne and poured them both a glass before he went to the bathroom to fill the large tub. The bubble bath was in his bag, and he went to get it, glancing at where she still lay on the bed watching him as he moved around the room. She had thrown her heels aside finally, and a soft smile was playing at the corners of her mouth.

He returned the smile and finished preparing the bath, moving their flutes and the chilling champagne to rest on the wide marble edge of the tub. When he was finished he walked back to the bed and scooped her into his arms, carrying her into the bathroom to set her down gently on the edge of the tub. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then slid into the water, purring and closing her eyes as she savored the scalding heat.

“Mmm, this is perfect,” she moaned.

“Scoot up a little, Kitten,” he directed, and she sat forward so that he could slide into the tub behind her. Once he was in he settled her back into his arms, reaching for his champagne and passing her flute to her. “Happy anniversary,” he said, and he clinked his glass to hers.

His words were met with a giggle and she took a sip. “Happy anniversary,” she agreed. “It’s been a good one. I - I never expected…”

When she trailed off he brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed the back of her head. “You never expected what, gorgeous?”

“I just - when you asked me to dinner that first time, I thought it was going to be a one time thing,” she murmured. “Something I’d end up regretting. Instead, I - um…”

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he encouraged her before he took a sip of his champagne. She was so hesitant, but she didn’t sound like anything was wrong. Instead she almost sounded happy.

“John, I - I know you’re married, I know this is complicated, and I just - well,” she sighed and reached for his hand draped on the edge of the tub. Absently she interlaced her fingers with his as she thought. “John, I - I love you.”

The words were spoken rushed, quiet, as if she was almost afraid to say them. Before he could fully register them, though, she kept talking.

“I haven’t ever told anyone that before, I - I haven’t ever felt this, but I - I do, and I,” she took a deep breath. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted to tell you, I wanted you to know -”

“Abby,” he interrupted, sitting up so that they were both upright.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide, and the look on her face pulled at something deep inside him. His heart was racing, and somehow all his mind could grasp was the fact that he felt the same, that he wasn’t sure he had ever felt it this strongly before. And the way she had said it, the way she had told him first, made a wide smile come to his face.

All he knew in that moment was the look in her eyes as she peered at him, the feelings it inspired in him to see that much love reflecting back at him in her chocolate eyes.

“Yes?” she asked hesitantly.

“I love you too, Abby,” he told her, locking his gaze with hers.

“You - you do?” she said.

“Yes, I do,” he answered. “I love you, gorgeous. More than I thought possible. You’re mine, Abby, you belong to me.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then set her glass aside so that she could turn around in the tub. Pulling herself into his lap she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his in an almost desperate kiss, smiling every time her lips left his.

“I love you, John,” she repeated between kisses. “I love you, only you. I’m yours, handsome, yours.”

 

* * *

 

“When are you free next?” Abby asked, leaning across the center console as they said their goodbyes.

“I’ll text you later and tell you,” John assured her. “I need to double check my schedule. When does your break start?”

“Monday,” she answered eagerly, and she pressed a few more kisses to him. “Will I see you for part of it?”

“Of course, gorgeous,” he told her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She smiled when she said it, and kissed him one - two - three - last times. With the smile still on her face she opened the car door and slid out onto the sidewalk. She slung her overnight on her shoulder as she closed the car door and stepped back, blowing him a kiss before she turned and nearly skipped to the door of her building.

He waited until she was safely inside before he pulled away from the curb and into traffic, making the drive back to the Upper East Side as he lost himself in thought. His mind felt sluggish, though, exhausted from how late they had stayed up together, how many hours they had rolled around in bed, tangled up in one another after confessing their love.

It was a Saturday, and he didn’t expect Connie home until that afternoon. Maybe he’d be lazy for a change and take a nap, letting himself indulge in this delicious exhaustion. When he pulled up to his building he grabbed his bag and passed his car off to the valet, nodding a greeting to the doorman before he crossed the lobby.

He was distracted, too busy remembering, too caught up in thoughts of her, and he felt almost dazed as he rode the elevator up. Nothing permeated his recollections until his key turned in the door and he strode inside.

“Oh good, you’re home.”

John stilled at the voice, raising his gaze to look in the direction it was coming from.

Connie was sitting on a stool at the island in the kitchen, where she always sat to read the paper in the mornings. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, and he noticed she was still in her heels, which was unusual. She almost always took them off as soon as she stepped in the door, and he frowned.

_Jill._

“You’re home early,” he finally said, slowly setting his overnight bag down inside the door so that he could walk forward to greet her. He took a deep breath and casually put his hands in his pockets, using the same tactics he always did in court to keep his cool, to keep his mind sharp and focused.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re surprised, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice still flat and devoid of emotion, her face neutral.

“More like concerned, did something go wrong with your trip?” he shrugged as he said it, trying to force his voice and frown to match the concern he was suggesting.

“Actually it was going quite well,” she told him. “That is, until I got a phone call that I just had to take, since it was from my secretary. Can you imagine what it was she was calling about?”

His heart beat just slightly faster, but otherwise he remained calm. “No, is something the matter -”

“You are unbelievable,” she interrupted, her voice finally icy. “Are you really going to make me say it, to actually accuse you? Or do you have the decency to say it first?”

He swallowed and then pulled a hand out of his pocket, gesturing it as if at a loss. “I’m not sure I know -”

“Well let me tell you what I know,” she cut across him. “I know that having to take a call from my secretary in the middle of an important meeting to tell me she saw my husband out to dinner with his mistress was not exactly how I expected my trip to go.”

“I -” he began, but then he frowned, making note of the way she had phrased it. He fell silent and stared at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. But it was like her face was closed against him, giving him no hints to what lay beneath the surface. Perhaps he was out of practice, no longer able to discern her thoughts and moods as he once had.

“No response?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow as she waited for him to say anything. “No? All right then.”

She took a deep breath and he finally opened his mouth, his mind working fast, but she held up a hand and pushed herself off the stool.

“All right, John,” she asserted before he could speak. “You’ve had your fun. I’ve let it go on long enough, now it’s just embarrassing. You need to end things.”

For a moment he felt dumbstruck, and the words, “You’ve known?” slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Of course I’ve known,” she told him. She was shaking her head, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe his nerve. “You know, sometimes I think you forget that you weren’t the only one that attended an Ivy League school when we met. We have the same degrees, remember? In fact if I recall correctly, I was in the top of our class as well, wasn’t I?”

Again he met her questions with silence, still racing to absorb the fact that she had known - possibly the whole time.

“You weren’t as careful as you thought, or at least - after almost nineteen years of marriage I like to think I know you fairly well,” she mused. “I thought you needed to work this out of your system, that you were having some sort of mid-life crisis. But now, it’s hurting things that I am working hard for because of your recklessness. Didn’t you care at all how this would look?”

“Oh, so I’m damaging, what, your precious pet projects?” he accused before he could stop himself.

Again she held up a hand to silence him as her eyes narrowed. “Yes, your little bit of childish fun is ruining my work,” she answered. “Jesus, John, how old is she even? Jill said she hardly looked legal. Do you know what it was like having to listen to my employee’s speculations about your _decency_?”

“I’m not certain hers is an opinion I care about,” he gritted out.

“You should, she’s quite the gossip,” Connie informed him, her voice full of dry humor. “I doubt I was even the first call she made - especially since I didn’t get one until this morning, and she said she saw you at dinner, isn’t that right?”

His cheeks flexed as he gritted his teeth, and then he nodded.

“So you see, you should care what she’s been saying about you,” she insisted. “Now, as I said, you’ve had your fun. I’m sure it will break the poor girl’s heart to stop getting gifts from you. But please - you need to break it off. It’s well past time.”

“Just like that, you expect me to, what - call her right this second and tell her it’s through?” he asked, and then he let out a few exasperated laughs. “Just because your secretary saw us at dinner and assumed -”

“Yes, just because of that,” she interrupted. “I will not be embarrassed by your philandering around town with someone half your age. Unless…”

Something changed in her eyes, darkening behind the pools of baby blue as her gaze wandered over his face. For the first time in the conversation, she seemed hesitant and unsure.

“Unless what? Going to give me an ultimatum or try to strike a bargain?” he prompted her.

“No, I - unless, that is,” she took a deep breath, “unless it’s more than just - sex.”

They simply stared at one another, neither seeming to want to break the silence left in the wake of her speculation. Finally John ran a hand down his chin and looked away, thinking for a moment before he answered.

“It is,” he confessed. “When it started, it was - I’m not entirely sure what it was. But now, I - I love her. I won’t break it off, no matter what someone like Jill may be telling people.”

He returned his gaze to hers, and his heart clenched, his insides twisting slightly at the look in her eyes. Whereas before she had been calm and collected, now she looked broken, worn out.

“I see,” she murmured. “I - I suppose I didn’t expect that. I thought perhaps…”

She trailed off, tapping her fingers along the marble of the countertop as she avoided his gaze.

“I’m - I’m sorry, Connie,” he told her. “I never meant to hurt you, that wasn’t - that’s not why -”

“Even if that wasn’t the intent, it still happened,” she said, and the way her voice just barely wavered made his insides twist again. It was worse than if she had broken down in tears, if she had screamed and raved at him. “So, I suppose - this is it, then. Two decades, and now...Eventually I’m sure I’ll want you to be happy, but I hope you’ll understand if that’s a little difficult for me at the moment.”

“Connie, I - I am sorry, truly,” he stepped forward, his hands outstretched toward her, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Don’t, it makes me feel like even more of a fool,” she muttered. “Constance Baker, the laughing stock of Manhattan, letting her husband run around on her until he leaves for some young -”

“Connie -”

“I’ll call a lawyer, unless you’d like for one of the partners of your firm to handle it for us? Maybe they’ll give us a discount. Not that that matters,” she mused wryly. “All I want is to keep what’s mine, if that’s all right with you. After all we both entered into this with trusts, but we were young, didn’t think to do a prenup. I’d appreciate if I could keep my own assets, if I can’t keep my dignity.”

“I’ll - I’ll call Henry, see if we can handle it quickly and discreetly,” he agreed softly.

Connie clenched her eyes shut at the words, as if it was finally too much, hearing him agree to a lawyer so easily. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I’ll - I’ll pack a bag, and go stay at the - what hotel do you take her to?”

“The - The Langham,” he answered hesitantly.

“I’ll be at the Waldorf, then,” she told him. She shook her head and folded her arms, staring silently at the marble beside her. “Please wait until all of my belongings are out before you move her in. At least grant me that courtesy, if you would.”

“I -” He wanted to deny, wanted to be angry at what she was accusing him of, but instead he swallowed his ire and simply sighed. “Yes, of course, Connie.”

She glanced up at him, holding his gaze for a moment before she nodded. “I’m going to pack a bag, I’m - sure you have a phone call to make,” she said. “So, I suppose - this is goodbye. Let me know what Henry says, he can call Jill to get my schedule to arrange any meetings.”

“Of course, I’ll have him do that,” he assured her. “I - well, um, I’ll let you pack. If you need anything -”

“I won’t ask,” she replied and turned to walk up the stairs to their bedroom.

For a moment he stared after her, thinking about how he had never been good at goodbyes, reeling from the way two decades had come to a close so suddenly. Yet something else tugged at him, and he dug in his pocket for his phone as the realization dawned on him.

It meant the start of something new.


	4. Is It Too Soon to Do This Yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fueled by ["Delicate" by Taylor Swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4Y0daichwg).

“Are we ready to begin?”

John looked across the table at Connie, noticing the way she seemed to set her shoulders back a bit as she sat up straighter. They had already agreed to some things just between the two of them, including the fact that they only needed one lawyer to handle the divorce. Neither of them really seemed intent on fighting the other, yet he still noticed an apprehension in Connie, as if she expected to have to make demands. As if she expected him to go back on his word.

That stung in a way he hadn’t expected it to, and he swallowed hard before he spoke. “Yes, I believe we are,” John agreed, nodding with a smile at Henry sitting beside him.

Henry pushed his glasses up on his face and opened the folder in front of him, pulling out the papers for both of them to look over. “Now, as far as I understand it, we’re filing a no-fault, uncontested agreement with the court, is that correct?”

“I - assume so,” Connie said slowly. She glanced at John and carefully folded her hands on the polished wood of the conference table. “That is, if we’re still in agreement that I get to keep my assets, the Hampton house is being sold and split, and -”

“Connie,” John interrupted, sitting forward and smiling as he folded his hands, mirroring her. “Yes, we are still in agreement.”

Her stiff posture relaxed slightly as she nodded. “Then yes,” she said.

“I have all of those details here,” Henry handed them each a copy of the settlement agreement that had been prepared. “Let me know if anything looks wrong, Connie, I know this is the first time you’ve seen some of these numbers.”

“Thank you, Henry,” she said as she accepted the papers, pulling out her reading glasses so that she could begin to look them over. She was silent for a moment as she read, but John hardly glanced at the settlement Henry had handed him, since he already knew what it contained. “That much for the penthouse? That’s higher than I expected.”

“It’s a good market at the moment,” John commented with a shrug. “I was surprised as well, it almost tripled in value since we bought it.”

“Really? That makes what we paid for it seem so - trivial, I suppose,” she mused.

When their eyes locked there was a hint of nostalgia in her gaze, and he gave her a small smile as he remembered. Working as a junior partner at the firm, Connie just starting her own non-profit after she left the one she’d helped found with a friend from Harvard. It seemed a lifetime ago; it was hard to believe it was just roughly a decade.

Connie cleared her throat and looked back to the papers, scanning the lines. “And one point five for the house in the Hamptons - that’s not bad either, I thought we’d lose money on it. You’re sure you’re all right selling that?”

“Yes,” John answered with a firm nod.

The house would hold too many memories, and while he wasn’t willing to part with the penthouse he was more than willing to part with the vacation home they had dreamt of together for so many years. Now it seemed a waste; they hadn’t gone up there nearly as much as they should have, too busy focused on work and life in the city instead. A part of him couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if they’d slipped away together more often on the weekends.

Instinctively he checked his watch, even though he knew he had hours until his dinner. A smile replaced the thoughtful frown on his face as he thought about it, as if he was suddenly remembering why he was here.

A new beginning coming out of this ending, and that made all of this worth it.

“And my trust and investments, that looks right,” Connie murmured absently. “What’s - what’s this amount? Five hundred thousand? It just says -”

“That’s your settlement,” Henry told her matter of factly, pointing with his pen at the number.

“My -” she trailed off and raised her wide, pale blue eyes to John’s. He held her gaze, steady and even as she simply stared at him. “In addition? John that’s not - that’s not what we agreed -”

“It’s what I’m offering, though,” John said, his voice low. “After all, you’re the wro -” he cut off, unable to vocalize why, unable to confess that he had wronged her, and instead he simply said, “it’s what’s best.”

“Best?” she questioned, frowning at him. She almost looked pained for a moment, but then she cleared her throat and looked back down at the papers. The seconds inched by as her eyes wandered over the settlement agreement, as if she was thinking. Finally she simply muttered, “I see.”

“So, does everything look correct?” Henry asked, glancing up as he straightened the papers he held. He was smiling and looking as if he hadn’t noticed the moment that had just passed between the pair before him.

“I - yes, yes it does,” Connie told him, her voice low. She cleared her throat and shuffled the papers, removing her reading glasses while avoiding John’s gaze. “Is all that’s left is signing?”

“Yes, if everything looks right to both parties, we can simply sign and file with the court,” Henry answered her. He gave an easy smile and looked between them. “All set?”

John picked up the black fountain pen beside him and pulled the settlement papers toward him. He signed the first line that was marked, and then glanced up at Connie. She was staring at the papers he had just signed, her face a mask. But then she sat forward and picked up the pen beside her.

They signed in silence, the only sounds that broke it the shuffling of papers and scratch of their pens. Henry sat back in his chair and watched, collecting the papers as they finished them so that he could keep them in order. None of them attempted small talk, even though they had all known one another for more than a decade.

“Well, that should be everything,” Henry said when he accepted the last of the papers. “We’ll file with the court, but we’ll have to wait to hear back from them. It might be at least six weeks, could be longer with the holidays. Since this has all gone smoothly there shouldn’t be any hold-ups, though.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Henry,” Connie said, nodding genially as she said it. Her lips tightened slightly as she glanced at John. “Well, if that’s everything you need me for…”

“Yes, Connie, that should be everything,” Henry told her. He held his hand out and she took it briefly. “I’ll let you know as soon as we hear something back from the court.”

John stood and buttoned the jacket of his suit, intending to shake her hand as well. But Connie simply nodded at him as she pulled her purse higher up on her shoulder and turned to leave. For a moment he stared after her before he cleared his throat and faced Henry instead.

“Well, thank you, Henry,” he held out a hand as he said it.

“Of course, John,” Henry agreed as he took his hand in a firm grip. “I didn’t realize the settlement amount hadn’t been discussed, but she took it well enough.”

John nodded but didn’t comment. “I appreciate you helping with this, and keeping it discreet.”

“You know we take care of our own,” Henry chuckled. “I’m glad it’s going smoothly. Sorry about the six week wait but you know how the court is with these things, New York’s laws being what they are and everything. I’m sure you just want to move on with - things.”

“It’s fine,” John said with a shrug. “After all it’s not like - this isn’t holding anything up, not really.”

“I wasn’t sure if you had plans to ask her or anything, perhaps,” Henry commented nonchalantly as he gathered together his folders.

“No, no,” John assured him. “Although I’m having dinner with her mother tonight, but - no plans beyond that. We’re just taking it all as it comes, considering.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Henry said with a nod. “As I said, it shouldn’t take longer than six weeks, but if it’s not holding up any plans, then, I suppose it doesn’t matter if it takes much longer.”

“No, it doesn’t really. Just make certain it all goes smoothly and stays quiet,” John requested. “Well - back to work?”

Henry chuckled and held out a hand for John to precede him, and they left the conference room together as if they had just handled any other case.

 

* * *

 

It was an odd thing, really, that after all this time he still preferred to drive himself across the city instead of hiring someone to do it for him. He had more than enough money for it, but there was a certain satisfaction in driving his own car, navigating his way across town by himself. He couldn’t tell if it made him feel self-sufficient or in control, but either way he knew that he had preferred it ever since they had moved to the city after law school.

Now as he climbed back into his car and set the two bouquets in the passenger seat he realized it would mean dealing with parking. But he was early enough he should hopefully be able to find some without running late. He wanted to a make a good impression, and as he sat at a stoplight he reached over and fluffed one of the peonies before he straightened his tie.

When was the last time he’d met the family? Twenty years ago? And then it had been so different, since they had already run in the same circles and knew of one another.

Now, he had no frame of reference, no idea what to expect.

He actually felt nervous, but it had more to do with the entire situation. Abby had talked about her mother a great deal, even before they got together, and he knew they were close, especially since they were all each other had left. With a frown he mused over the fact that she hadn’t told him about her father at all, and he wondered if he could ask and discover what had happened to him tonight at dinner.

Either way, he knew that he was taking a big step tonight, meeting the mother he had heard so much about. Vaguely he wondered what she had been told about him, or what she thought of him - after all, Abby still lived with her, and she had to know about the nights Abby had been gone.

Street parking was easier to find than he anticipated, and he sat for a moment in his car taking a deep breath and straightening his attire before he picked up both bouquets and headed to their brownstone building. It was a slightly nicer area of Brooklyn, but Abby told him they had lived there for years before everything began to build up around them. He called up to their apartment, and the door buzzed open after barely a second spent waiting.

The small lobby and stairways were worn but pleasant, and he mounted the stairs up to the second floor. It was a smaller building with fewer units, not like the skyscrapers in Manhattan, and the second floor was actually decently situated with a nice view from what he could tell. The furnishings were shabby but he enjoyed the slightly vintage feel of the building as he looked around.

When he reached apartment 235 he stopped and took a breath before he knocked. Hardly a moment passed before the door opened, and Abby smiled when she saw him. She was barefoot and nearly bouncing in her excitement, wearing a short black dress with cap sleeves, patterned with small yellow and blue flowers.

“Hi!” she greeted him, her eyes taking in the two bouquets of flowers he was holding.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he responded, holding out the perfect dozen red roses he had gotten her. “Brought you something special.”

She giggled and accepted the roses, holding them up to her nose to smell with her eyes closed. “I love them,” she told him, raising a wide grin to his gaze.

“And I brought these for your mother,” he said, looking past Abby into the apartment to see if her mother was in sight.

“Oh she’ll love them,” Abby said. “Here, come in.”

She stepped back so that he could enter the apartment, and as he walked in he glanced around. It was a small apartment, furnished with worn and slightly outdated furniture. An overstuffed and re-upholstered sofa was facing a small TV stand, but no television set. Instead there was a disorganized and overloaded bookshelf beside it. There was a small dining table and two chairs against a wall between the living room and kitchen, a third folding chair pulled beside the table as if it wasn’t normally there.

The modest kitchen was to the left inside the door, and the smell of spaghetti and meatballs greeted him when he stepped inside.

“Mom, John’s here,” Abby called as she began searching the kitchen cabinets for a vase. The arrangement he had gotten for her mother was already in a beautiful glass vase, but Abby began to prepare her roses for a simple white vase she had found in one of the cabinets. “I hope you like spaghetti, we’ve been working on the sauce all afternoon.”

She smiled at him as she said it, but there was something hesitant and almost apologetic in her gaze. He returned her smile as he walked to set the vase he held on the counter. “It smells delicious,” he assured her. “Family recipe?”

“Mmhmm, grandmother’s,” she answered. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as if she no longer felt embarrassed by the simple dish they had prepared.

Before he could comment further, her mother walked into the kitchen from one of the rooms off the hallway, and John picked up the vase of flowers again as he greeted her with a smile. She was barely taller than Abby, though she was stooped slightly as if standing straight took too much effort. Short, golden brown hair was carefully styled to try to hide the patches that were thin or missing, and only one patch of grey was evident in the strands. She was wearing a long cream-colored cardigan and black leggings tucked into UGG boots, her arms folded across her chest as if she was cold.

As she approached him he noticed her eyes were piercing hazel-green, slightly bloodshot with bags under them, although otherwise her face was free of lines or wrinkles. For a moment he simply stared as he took in the youth that was disguised by the signs of illness, realizing she couldn’t be much older than him - if she even was. But then he remembered himself and his grin widened as he held out a hand.

“John Baker. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much,” he greeted her.

“Jacqueline, but you can call me Jackie,” she replied as she took his hand. Her grip was weak, her fingers cold and seemingly stiff as they squeezed his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you as well.”

She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes as she looked over the bouquet of light pink, peach, and white peonies he was holding in his other hand. “For you, Jackie,” he said as he offered them to her.

Her eyes widened slightly, her thinned eyebrows raising slightly as she accepted the bouquet. “Thank you, you certainly didn’t have to go to any trouble,” she told him.

“No trouble,” he assured her, chuckling slightly as he put his hands in his pockets with a shrug. “After all, you’re making such a delicious smelling dinner, the least I could do is bring flowers.”

She hummed slightly but didn’t reply, instead slowly walking to the kitchen counter to set her bouquet beside the one Abby had placed in a vase.

“Told you he was a gentleman,” Abby chimed in from where she was stirring the sauce. When she caught John’s eye she winked. “And prone to spoiling, too.”

He chuckled again. “Is that what I do? Spoil you?”

“You know you do,” Abby insisted, and then giggled. “Go ahead and sit down Mom, I'll serve yours and bring it to you.”

“Thank you, Abigail,” her mother said, and she slowly shuffled to the dining table.

John moved swiftly and pulled one of the chairs out for her, waiting until she sat so that he could push it in for her. “There you are, Jackie. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, I have a large bottle of water, I can get it -” she began as she tried to push herself back to her feet, but he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No worries, please allow me,” he said, and he turned back to the kitchen in search of it. He caught Abby’s eye and she pointed at the counter beside the fridge. “Thank you, gorgeous,” he murmured as he grabbed the water bottle and took it to Jackie.

“Thank you,” she said again as she accepted it. “Are you sure I can’t help, Abigail?”

“I’m sure, Mom, I’ve got this,” Abby assured her from the kitchen. “John, can you come grab her plate please?”

“Of course,” John said with an easy smile, walking to stand beside Abby as she prepared her mother’s dish. Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head, allowing his hand to linger on her lower back as he did.

She giggled and looked up at him. “Sorry, I would have told you to bring some wine but then I kind of thought, since I’m not of age yet - maybe it was best not to,” she whispered.

“No problem, _Abigail_ ,” he teased softly. When she scrunched her nose at him he laughed.

“Please no,” she muttered as she passed over her mother’s plate. “Gorgeous sounds better.”

“Whatever you like,” he agreed with a wink, and then he took the fork and knife she was holding out to him. He walked back to the table and set her mother’s plate in front of her, handing over the fork and knife as well. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you, John,” Jackie said, granting him another small smile.

Abby appeared at his side holding two plates, and she handed him one before she set the other in front of the folding chair. “Water okay, handsome?”

“Yes, please,” he answered her as he set his plate down in front of the seat across from Jackie. He undid the buttons of his suit jacket and shrugged out of it, hanging it carefully on the back of his chair before he sat.

Abby returned with two glasses of ice water and set them down before she finally took her seat. She glanced between the other two for a moment before she picked up her fork and began to twirl some spaghetti with it. “So how was your day?” she asked John, giving him a brief grin when she met his gaze.

“Very good,” he answered. “The meeting with Henry went well.”

“Oh good. I - I was happy when you texted me that it - that she didn’t,” she trailed off awkwardly and then simply nodded before she shoveled a big bite of spaghetti into her mouth.

“No, it all went according to plan,” John assured her.

“I take it this was a meeting for the divorce?” Jackie interjected, looking between the two in front of her.

John cleared his throat as he slowly spun his fork in his spaghetti. “Yes, it was,” he told her after a moment’s pause. “Everything was filed with the court today, so it should be official soon.”

“I see,” Jackie said simply. “And how long were you married?”

“Just - just shy of nineteen years,” he answered before he took a bite. He threw his tie over his shoulder as he leaned forward, hoping not to get any of the sauce on it. When he glanced up to meet Jackie’s gaze he noticed her watching him intently for a moment before she nodded. “And yourself? Were you - were you married to Abby’s father? I realize I’ve never asked about him.”

“She wouldn’t be able to tell you much anyway,” Jackie told him with a small shrug. “He died before she was born.”

“Oh, I - I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” John said quickly. “Was he ill or?”

“A mugging,” Jackie replied, and she stared at her plate for a moment before she cleared her throat. She reached for her bottle of water and took a sip and then looked to Abby with a sad smile. “We’d only been married for six months, and I got pregnant on our honeymoon. Hard to believe it was twenty-one years ago, now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” John replied automatically. He watched as Jackie reached over and pushed Abby’s hair behind her ear, and Abby gave her a small smile as she chewed.

“I am too,” Jackie sighed. “He would have loved to see her grow up. He’d always wanted a daughter, when he found out we were having a girl he was so happy he cried. Then again he was always so - alive, so passionate about everything. ‘Michael,’ I’d say, ‘you cry about things easier than I do, and I’m part French.’ ‘Sorry, Jackie,’ he’d tell me, ‘I’m just a sap; always have been, always will be.’”

“You loved that about him though, you told me so,” Abby chimed in, smiling at her mother as she said it. “Didn’t you say he cried more when he proposed than you did?”

Jackie laughed and nodded. “He could hardly get the words out,” she said. “It was a whirlwind romance, hadn’t even been a year, and there he was, crying as he tried to list all the things he loved about me. He was a good man, he - he could have done great things, if he hadn’t - well. That’s life for you.”

John watched as Abby reached a hand to her mother’s, squeezing gently as she offered a reassuring smile. Jackie placed her other hand on Abby’s and patted it before she reached for her bottle of water again.

“So, John,” Jackie began after taking a sip of water. “You’re a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he answered, nodding as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’m a senior partner at my firm, mostly handling corporate clients.”

“Senior partner? That’s impressive,” Jackie commented. “Is that recent or have you been senior partner for a while, now?”

“I made senior partner surprisingly early, it’s been a couple of years now,” he told her with a shrug.

“And let me guess - Harvard?” she asked, quirking a brow in a way that reminded him a great deal of how Abby sometimes teased.

“Yes, you are correct,” he answered again, chuckling softly.

“Should have known,” Jackie said with a wry smile. “Have you worked at the same firm since you graduated?”

“Yes, it’s been about - fifteen years or so now?” he told her, smiling brightly before he took a bite.

“Fifteen years?” Jackie raised an eyebrow as she looked over his face. “When did you graduate law school?”

“Nineteen ninety-five,” John answered.

For a moment Jackie simply stared at him, and then she shook her head and chuckled softly. “So then I take it you graduated college in what - ninety-three? Ninety-two?”

“Ninety-two,” he told her with a nod.

“Ah,” she mused slowly. “So you were only three years behind me in school.”

It was a simple observation, but the silence that followed it was heavy with every implication hidden in her words. His eyes wandered over her face again, trying to reconcile the age of forty-three with the woman sitting in front of him. She was so young to be so sick, to look so weary and worn down by life.

“Mom, you don’t have to give him the third degree,” Abby sighed. “I know you want to grill him about everything but let’s just - enjoy dinner.”

Jackie laughed and reached over to Abby’s hand again. “Am I embarrassing you?” she teased. “It’s my prerogative as a parent, Abigail, I’ve done this with all of your boyfriends. Who was that one - Timmy? Tommy?”

“Tony,” Abby groaned. “Trust me, John is no Tony.”

John looked between the two and then smirked. “I feel like there’s a story, there.”

“No, no,” Abby hurried to insist. “You don’t need to hear about Tony. He was just - a boy. That’s all.”

“Senior prom date,” Jackie told him behind her hand, and Abby shot her a glare. “Oh come now, Abigail, that was almost three years ago, surely you’re over it.”

Abby rolled her eyes and put her forehead in a hand, looking thoroughly exasperated.

Three years ago. For a moment John stared at Abby, feeling slightly out of place, thinking again about how long it had been since he’d done this ‘meet the parents’ ritual.

He caught Abby’s eye and she grimaced, mouthing ‘sorry’ to him, but he simply chuckled and shook his head.

“All right, all right, I’ll lay off,” Jackie sighed. “So you live in Manhattan, are you from New York originally?”

“Yes, born and raised in Manhattan,” he told her once he’d finished chewing. “I always knew I wanted to come back once I was done with school.”

“There’s just something about the city,” Jackie agreed with a nod. “Michael and I were the same way. He was from Queens originally but we agreed to live in Brooklyn once we got married.”

“What did Michael do?” he asked casually.

“He was the starving artist type,” Jackie replied, a wistful smile coming across her face. “The man was a genius with a paintbrush. That painting there is one that he gave me as a gift for our wedding.”

John turned to look where she was pointing behind him, and saw a framed painting hanging on the wall. It was a highly stylized, modern painting, but it was clearly a scene on the beach. The colors of the water, sand, and sky were hardly blended, thick strokes of paint obvious but wonderfully appealing when viewing the painting as a whole.

“It’s - very nice,” John commented finally. “The colors are striking, was that an element of his style?”

“Yes, he absolutely loved color,” Jackie answered. “We’d go to Central Park and cloud gaze, and he’d point out every little bit of color in the sky and the trees. He was - fascinating.”

“He’d started one for me too,” Abby added. “It’s unfinished, but I have it hanging in my room. I’ll show you after dinner.”

“I’d love to see it,” John agreed with a smile.

“Do your parents still live in the city, John?” Jackie asked.

“No, they actually moved to Florida a few years ago,” he told her. “Decided to give retirement life a try, but they keep houses in Staten Island and the Hamptons, so I still see them several times a year.”

Jackie’s eyebrows rose and she nodded. “That must be nice, having them around. Have they been retired long?”

“A few years,” John mused. “My mother thought my father would work himself into his grave, but she managed to convince him to retire finally.”

“Are they that old?” Jackie asked.

“They’re in their late seventies,” he told her. “But still in great health, so hopefully they’ll get to enjoy their retirement for several more years.”

“I hope they do,” Jackie agreed.

Silence fell after that pronouncement, and John set to work finishing the last bit of his spaghetti. Abby set her fork down and reached over to her mother’s plate to tap the edge of it with a finger.

“Something wrong with my cooking?” she teased, but her brows were furrowed as she looked over Jackie’s face.

“No, you did a wonderful job, Abigail,” Jackie assured her. “I’m just - not feeling that great. I ate some.”

Abby pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Do you want me to make you some toast maybe? Need some water or tea? Dr. Nguyen gave us more anti-nausea meds if you need them -”

“I’m fine,” Jackie interrupted, shaking her head. She picked up her bottle of water and took another sip before she smiled at Abby. “Really, thank you, though, Abigail.”

Abby sighed and sat back in her chair. “All right,” she muttered.

“How have you been feeling, Jackie? I understand from Abby that you should be stopping chemo soon?” John asked.

“For the time being,” Jackie replied. “I understand I have you to thank for Dr. Nguyen's special interest in my case?”

John smiled and nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Yes, I called in a favor when Abby told me how dehydrated you were getting from your treatments.”

“Well, thank you,” Jackie inclined her head slightly as she said it. “I appreciate the assistance.”

“Of course,” he assured her. “I know how much you mean to Abby, and - she means the world to me, so your well being is incredibly important to me as well. Making certain you get the care you need is the least I can do.”

Abby reached over with a hand and squeezed his fingers, giving him a soft smile as she did. After a moment she released his hand and cleared her throat. “Well, let me clear our plates and then you can get some rest, Mom. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“Oh you’re never a bother,” Jackie sighed wistfully. “But I understand - get some alone time away from the mother.”

John was surprised that when she caught his eye she smirked, not looking nearly as accusatory as he expected. He wasn’t quite certain what to make of any of her questions, unable to read her expressions to determine if she liked him or not. She hadn’t continued to question him about his age or divorce, and he hoped that was a good sign.

Returning her smile he watched as Abby picked up their plates and took them to the kitchen, scraping them into the trash before she loaded them into the dishwasher. “Can I get you anything else, Mom?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” Jackie answered, finally pushing herself to her feet. “Thank you for cooking, Abigail.”

“Yes, thank you, gorgeous,” John chimed in as he got to his feet. “It was delicious.”

“You’re both too kind,” Abby accused them with a smirk. “Let me put away the leftovers and then we can get going.”

“No rush,” John shrugged as he pulled his suit jacket back on. “Can I help with anything?”

“I’ve got it,” Abby told him, shaking her head and offering a soft smile.

John wandered around the small apartment as he waited, his hands in his pockets, admiring the painting in the living room once more before he made his way to the hall. He had noticed some framed photos, and he stopped before the collection hanging on the wall to look them over.

There was a wedding photo, and for a moment he stared at it, eyebrows raised. Jackie had long, wavy golden brown hair beneath the layers of her white veil, her face glowing and incredibly young compared to the woman he had just met. She was smiling so happily, staring with pure love evident on her face at the man holding her hand who - John’s eyebrows rose further - looked a great deal like Abby. Dark hair, obviously dark eyes that had to be a similar shade of chocolate brown like Abby’s were, the same almond shape as well. Her nose and mouth were more similar to her mother’s, the same quirky smirk reminiscent of the one Jackie had given him a few times over dinner. But her coloring and the thoughtful look in her dark eyes was almost identical to her father’s.

“That dress was far too poufy,” a voice said from beside him, and he turned to see Jackie staring at the photo as well. “Oh, the eighties.”

“It was the style,” John commented with a laugh. “Still though, you look - happy. I hadn’t realized Abby looks so much like her father.”

When he glanced down at Jackie once more he saw a sad smile tugging the corners of her mouth. “Yes, she does,” she agreed. “I remember when her eyes began to really turn brown I - I cried. I was happy to see that at least a little bit of Michael got passed on, but - she has a lot of his personality, as well. She’s a tender soul, deep down. Life has just roughened her around the edges, a bit. That, at least, she gets from me.”

“She has a lot of both of you, I can tell,” John said. “All I got from my parents was a penchant for law and my father’s early graying. He had gone fully white by the time he was forty-five, and it looks like I’m headed that way as well.”

“Well, it certainly makes you look distinguished,” Jackie mused. “Although I will admit to worrying you were older than Abby had said when I saw you.”

John smirked and shook his head, oddly comforted by the confirmation that she worried about his age - as any parent would, he reasoned. “No, I’ll be forty-one in a few months.”

“I see,” Jackie said simply, looking at the photos again.

“What are we talking about?” Abby’s voice joined them, speaking in a loud whisper as if she had caught them sharing secrets.

John chuckled and turned to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I was telling your mother about how you’ll have to deal with me being white-headed in a few years.”

Abby giggled and snuggled against his chest a little. “That’s okay, I think it makes you look dashing,” she assured him. “Are you sure you don’t need anything before I go, Mom?”

“No, I’ll be fine, Abigail,” her mother answered.

“Well, if that changes just give me a call, I can come back if you need me,” Abby said. There was a hesitant look in her eyes as she watched Jackie adjusting her cardigan with stiff fingers. “Really, it won’t be any trouble.”

“Of course, I’d be more than happy to get her back here in a flash if you need us,” John added. “Please don’t hesitate to call, no matter the hour.”

“Thank you both,” Jackie acquiesced. “But I think I’m just going to take my meds and climb in bed. I’m tired.”

“Okay, Mom,” Abby sighed and stepped forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “We’ll get going so that you can get to bed.”

Abby turned to one of the doors in the hallway and opened it, slipping into the room. After a moment she poked her head back out. “Oh, did you want to see that painting?” she asked.

“Of course,” John agreed, following her to her room. He turned back and nodded at Jackie. “It was nice to meet you, Jackie.”

“You as well,” she agreed. “I’d heard so much, but nice to finally meet you in person.”

John nodded once more and smiled a wide smile before he followed Abby through the door to her bedroom. It was a small room, with a full-sized Murphy bed and a simple desk piled high with textbooks and papers. The small dresser in the room was piled with accessories and jewelry, though he saw the few boxes of jewelry he had gotten her carefully arranged in a corner. The small closet in the room was also rather haphazardly organized, except for the few dresses and shoes he had bought her, which were again carefully hung and maintained.

“Sorry it’s a mess, finals were crazy,” Abby muttered. She grabbed the overnight bag sitting on the desk chair and threw a few more things into it. “The painting is the one there.”

He followed where she was pointing with his gaze, and saw a medium-sized canvas hanging on the wall. There was a clear outline of a narwhal, and from the few broad strokes of pink, blue, purple, and orange it was obvious that it was supposed to be sunset on the ocean. It was whimsical, charming, and he smiled as he looked it over.

“It’s wonderful,” he commented. “I can tell he was putting a lot of work into it.”

“He was excited,” Abby said. “Mom said he started work on it as soon as they found out. He should have been focusing on making something he could sell but instead he worked on this, said he wanted it to be perfect. His paintings are the one thing we’d never sell, no matter how much we needed the money.”

“What does your mother do?” John asked with a slight frown.

“She taught high school English, until last year when she started to get too sick,” Abby answered. “Maybe once she’s better she can get back to it, I know she loved her job. But - anyway, ready to head out?”

“Of course, do you have everything?” he reached in his pocket for his keys as he asked, checking to make certain he still had his phone as well.

“Yep,” she told him with a bright smile. “Let me check on Mom one last time and then we can get going.”

She led him out of the bedroom and then poked her head into the room next to it. He could hear her voice, low and concerned, but he couldn’t make out the words. While they spoke he looked around the apartment once more, taking in the slightly bare furnishings, the way the home looked cozy and yet shabby. This was what she was used to, how she had been raised, and something stirred in him. It was the normal feeling he had when he saw her, the desire to provide for her.

She deserved better than this, and he intended to take care of her.

The door to her mother’s bedroom opened again and she walked out, frowning slightly as she closed the door behind her. There was a curious expression on her face when she raised her gaze to his, and he couldn’t make out what she was thinking.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

She nodded but seemed unable to say anything. He gestured to the front door and she nodded again, fumbling in her overnight bag for her keys. After locking up once they were out the door, he took her hand and led her down the stairs. She was still staring at her feet with a frown, letting him lead her without a word.

He held open the door to his car for her, and when she glanced up at him he took the chance and finally pressed a deep kiss to her lips. It took her a moment to respond, but she finally slid an arm around his neck and met his searching tongue with hers. “I missed you, gorgeous,” he murmured when he pulled away.

She smiled softly and nodded. “I missed you too handsome, even though it was only a few days,” she told him, and then she giggled. Gradually she seemed to be pulling out of whatever mood had gripped her after saying goodbye to her mother. She hauled herself up into the seat and he closed the door after her, circling around to the driver’s side.

As they drove through the city she held his hand on the gearshift, and he tried to make small talk about her finals and the way New York looked decorated for Christmas.

“I keep meaning to decorate our apartment,” she sighed. “It keeps getting put off, though, since Mom hasn’t been feeling well.”

“Maybe next weekend I’ll come over and we can decorate together,” he suggested. “That way it’s not just you doing it all.”

“That sounds fun,” she agreed, giving him a small smile. She stared at him for a moment, but then simply squeezed his hand where she held it and looked back out the window.

When they pulled up in front of his building he passed off the car to the valet while the doorman helped open the door for her.

“Thanks, Steve,” she said with a bright smile. “Staying warm tonight?”

“Doing my best, Miss Abby,” the doorman told her with a laugh. “Forecast said snow, the boys are already hoping for a white Christmas.”

“I hope they get it,” she agreed. John held his hand out to her and she took it, smiling one last time at the doorman. “Have a good night, Steve!”

“You too, Miss Abby - good night, Mr. Baker,” Steve said, giving a wide grin to Abby before he nodded curtly to John. He held the building’s door open for them and John guided Abby through it and across the lobby to the elevator. She smiled softly as they stepped onto it, seeming to have shaken off whatever melancholy had gripped her for most of the car ride.

The doors of the elevator closed and he gently pulled her into his arms, stealing kisses from her until the lift slowed at the correct floor. Reluctantly he stepped away from her so that they could exit to the penthouse. Once inside they removed their coats and shoes, and casually made their way up the stairs to the bedroom.

It had only been a few weeks that he’d been able to bring her home with him, but they had already settled into it, comfortable with one another and beginning to treat the space as theirs. It felt right, seeing her move around the bedroom after setting her bag down. The furniture chafed him slightly, bringing back memories of Connie picking it out, but he pushed the thoughts aside at the sight of Abby sitting on the bed with a mischievous smirk on her face.

“Hurry up, handsome,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”

He slid out of his suit jacket and threw it aside on one of the armchairs that sat in front of the large window of the bedroom. With a quirk of his eyebrow he stalked toward where she was perched on the edge of the mattress. “Missed me? After only a few days?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed softly, her fingers wrapping around his tie to pull him closer to her. “You know I can’t get enough of you.”

“I feel the same, Kitten,” he murmured. He captured her lips with his, twisting his mouth as he sought to taste her, to feel her. His fingers twisted into her hair, holding her to him as his kiss devoured her.

She began to undo his tie, sliding it off so that she could work on the buttons of his shirt. He slid a hand up her thigh to her hip, letting the skirt of her dress pool as he went higher. They made short work of one another’s clothes, desperate to be free of them, only breaking their kiss so that they could pull this or that article of clothing off.

When they were bare he hooked his hands under her thighs and lifted her to the middle of the bed, taking his place over her so that he could continue their passionate kisses as he laid between her spread legs. His hands were practiced, so familiar with her body that he left her breathless and moaning under his caresses, desperate pleas for more pulled from her throat at the way he trailed his fingers lower.

A soft cry greeted his first thrust into her, her eyes clenched tight as she arched slightly off the bed. He took a moment to savor the feeling, the way her nails dug into his back where she held him, the way her thighs tightened on either side of his hips. Bracing himself with one hand above her shoulder he began to thrust, rolling his hips as he gripped her throat with his other hand. Her hands moved to hold his wrists, and she smiled as she began to match his rhythm, gasps and soft cries accenting each thrust into her.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed, watching her face as he noticed the way she was fluttering around him, already so close. “Come for me, Kitten.”

He moved a hand and swirled his thumb around her pearl, still bracing himself with his other hand at the base of her throat. When she came she cried out, her back arching as her hips pushed back against his in near desperation. Her hand tightened on his wrist as she sobbed his name, completely lost in the pleasure he was giving her. He thrust harder, faster, seeking his release as well, and he found it deep inside her with a groan, his mind going blank as his body shuddered in response to the sensations.

It always felt like the world stopped, as if time ceased to exist. He collapsed on top of her, wrapping his arms around her to hold her closer to him as he rolled to his side. She snuggled against him as she breathed heavily, seemingly unable to move. Soft, contented moans occasionally reached his ears as she nestled into his chest, her legs tangled with his.

Finally he felt like his faculties had returned and he pressed a kiss to her forehead before he spoke. “Better, Kitten?”

“Much,” she murmured with a giggle.

He chuckled and ran a hand through her hair, thinking hard. The idea had been in the back of his mind all night, for days before - but he still wondered if it was the right time. Then again, would there ever be a more perfect time than now, wrapped together in the afterglow of their lovemaking?

“I - I have something to ask you, gorgeous,” he began.

She hummed noncommittally, shifting slightly in his arms as she attempted to get even closer to him. He took it as a sign that she was listening and decided to continue.

“What if you moved in - here - at the beginning of the year? After the holidays?” he asked, keeping his voice firm. Surprisingly he was nervous, hesitant and hoping that she reacted the way he hoped she would.

“I - are you serious?” she replied after a moment, leaning her head back to peer up at him. Genuine surprise was evident on her face, her brows furrowed slightly as she searched his face.

“Of course,” he assured her. “I wouldn’t ask this lightly, I - I’d like for you to live here, with me. The divorce should be finalized soon, and then we can start our life together.”

Abby caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought, her brows knitting together. The silence stretched for several moments, and John was just about to continue speaking, to try to convince her, when she finally spoke. “John, I - I can’t,” she said softly. “I need to finish school, and take care of my mom. I - I can’t. Not yet, not right now.”

“I -” he hesitated, but then he swallowed the protest that came to his tongue. She was right, she was making valid points. He had only seen what he wanted, the idea of having her here, always near him, ready and waiting for him when he came home from work too good to pass up. His desire to keep her close and provide for her was making him blind to the hurdles in her life. “You’re - right, of course. I just - know that I want you here with me, but - if you need to stay home at present, I understand.”

“Thank you, John,” she murmured. “I - if it weren’t for that, I’d consider it. But Mom being sick, and her going off chemo soon isn’t exactly a good thing, I just - I worry what could happen without me there for her. And focusing on school, I mean - I have scholarships, I have to keep my grades up, I need to finish my degree -”

“I understand, gorgeous,” he assured her. “Don’t worry, I - I just wanted to ask. Whenever you’re ready, the offer still stands. I love you, Abby.”

“I love you too,” she replied easily, snuggling tight against him once more.

They fell silent, holding one another and still trying to come down from their shared passion. His mind was racing over her answer, and it stuck on the words _‘not yet’_ until he began to wonder what she meant. There was the slightest hint of promise, the barest implication that she would, if only…

If only.

As he lay holding her tight against him he thought about what she was likely waiting for, and with a smile and another kiss to her forehead he realized he was the furthest thing from opposed to the idea. After all, he wasn’t dissolving his marriage with Connie just because.

His feelings for Abby swelled when he pictured it, when he fully accepted that he wanted it as well. And the slightest hint that it was what she was looking forward to as well removed any doubt at her refusal to move in with him.

Time, and patience.

With both he could have everything he wanted, and as he drifted off he found himself planning how to make her his, how to give them both everything, if only he could.

Because he knew now more than ever, she was everything he had ever wanted.


	5. Handsome & Kitten, Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is still intending to simply be snapshots of the important moments in their relationship, so time is going to keep moving quickly between chapters and even - like in this case - within chapters themselves. I'll try to always make certain to keep it clear just how much time has passed.
> 
> Plus I know you probably all want to get to the Just Like Heaven scenes as much as I want to. ;-)
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

“Handsome! Come on, wake up!”

A trickle of giggles followed the words, and something tickled his face before he felt soft lips pressing to his cheek.

“We said we’d explore today,” she murmured as she trailed her mouth closer to his. “Wake up, I want to see the lake in the daytime.”

John chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders without opening his eyes. He pulled her down on top of him and encircled her with his other arm, trapping her against his chest. “We’re on vacation, Kitten. Let’s stay in bed.”

She giggled and squirmed in his arms. “We’re on vacation in _Italy_ , John,” she told him, and he could picture her rolling her eyes at him without even looking. “It’s our first day in this city, and we’re in a fucking _villa_. Wake up, I wanna do stuff!”

“We did stuff in Cinque Terre, and Florence, and Milan,” he grumbled sleepily. “Stay in bed longer, Abby. I just want to hold you, or maybe,” he slid his hand down and settled it on her ass, “we have ‘stuff’ we could do in bed.”

She laughed and tried to wriggle out of his arms again, out of the reach of his wandering hand. “John - handsome,” she implored him. “I want to go have mimosas and too much Italian food and walk around the city with you. Come on handsome,” she tugged his lip between her teeth until he sucked in his breath from the pain, “get up.”

He peeked an eye open at her finally, noticing the impish gleam in her gaze. “Keep that up and you won’t be able to leave this bed all day,” he mused. “Which would be a shame, considering.”

“Considering we’re in Italy?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow at him as she smirked.

“No, considering what day it is,” John murmured, and he rolled his head so he could look at her fully. “Happy birthday, Kitten.”

Her eyes lit up and a bright grin spread across her face as she peered down at him. “For a minute I was worried you’d forgotten,” she teased.

“How could I forget your twenty-second birthday?” he asked, and he brushed her hair behind her ear. She was so beautiful like this, propped over him, smiling brightly as her dark eyes held his gaze. The feeling of her naked and soft against him was more than a little tempting, but she was right - they had plans.

“You mean because I kept reminding you yesterday?” she mused wryly.

He chuckled again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “No, because I needed to make certain I remembered to give you your gift today,” he told her.

“Give me - John, you didn’t need to - the trip to Italy was my gift, remember?” she pointed out, her cheeks flushing slightly as she stared wide-eyed at him.

“Nonsense,” he insisted. “Of course I got you something, gorgeous. It’s your birthday.”

He chuckled at the way she was still staring at him so flabbergasted, and he leaned over to the nightstand beside the large bed they were in. Pulling open the drawer, he grabbed the robin’s egg blue box and passed it to her. He had hidden it there the night before after she fell asleep, knowing he’d want to give it to her before they left their bed in the morning. Abby stared at the name on the box after he handed it to her, and she glanced up at him almost timidly.

“John, you didn’t have to get me more diamonds,” she chided him, but the corners of her mouth were twitching slightly as she opened the box. A soft gasp greeted the action, and she stared for a moment before her dark eyes darted up to meet his. “Handsome, it’s beautiful!”

“You like it?” he asked, his voice lowering as he watched her lift the delicate platinum chain from the box. The diamond solitaire pendant, simple and elegant, caught the morning sun and sparkled where it dangled and spun slightly in the air.

“I - I love it,” she told him.

“Turn around, I’ll put it on for you,” he said, twirling a finger to encourage her.

“I’m a little underdressed for diamonds, don’t you think?” she teased softly as she turned her back to him and passed him the necklace.

He smiled and ran his finger down her back before he leaned forward to press a kiss to one of the moons decorating her spine. “No, I’d say you’re the perfect amount of dressed for diamonds,” he murmured. “If I could I’d keep you in just this all the time.”

“Of course you would,” she agreed breathlessly. “John, I - I - thank you. You really didn’t have to, the trip is enough.”

“It’s not enough for me,” he insisted as he finished clasping the necklace. He slid his hands to her shoulders and pressed another kiss to her skin, trailing his lips up to the column of her throat. “I love you too much to settle for ‘enough.’”

“I love you, too,” she told him. She turned quickly and threw her arms around his neck, smiling brightly as she pressed kisses to every inch of his face. “I love you so much, John. This has been perfect - the trip - just _everything_. Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he assured her. “Now - did you want to get dressed and go find some breakfast? You’re right, it’s your birthday - it would be a crime to start it off without prosecco.”

Abby giggled, her nose scrunching slightly, her forehead pressed to his. “Yes, it would be,” she said. “Only if you get up too. Come on, lazy.”

“Right behind you,” he agreed, and he leaned back to watch her scurry out of the bed, propping his hands behind his head so that he could enjoy the view.

Two years.

They had been together for almost two years now, and the sight of her slender form as she hurried around the large, open bedroom still set his soul on fire. She stooped and pulled a flowing yellow sundress from her suitcase and pulled it on without first putting on anything under. With a glance back at him she caught his eye and winked as she shimmied into the dress.

“Going to stay in bed all day, handsome?” she teased as she turned to face him, smoothing the fabric of the dress down her flat stomach. She reached up and straightened the necklace, smiling softly at him as she did.

“I was just enjoying the sight of you,” he murmured. “Hard to believe sometimes it’s almost been two years. I - I love you.”

A soft look came into her eyes and then she giggled. “I love you too but I’m starving and in dire need of birthday prosecco.”

He chuckled and finally pushed himself out of the bed. “You win, Kitten,” he told her. “I’m up, I’m up.”

Once he had pulled on his linen pants and button up shirt, he slid on his loafers and ran a hand through his hair. Vacation meant it didn’t matter if he shaved or did anything with his hair, and as they walked through the narrow streets of the village Abby reached up and dragged her nails through his light beard. He merely smiled and winked when she did, realizing he felt freer than he possibly ever had. Simply wandering these cobblestone streets with her hand tucked in his as she smiled and giddily led him to a nearby cafe made him feel happier than he could ever recall.

“This place looks fun,” she suggested, staring at a posted menu. “Wanna try, handsome?”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous,” he assured her. “You’re the birthday girl.”

She giggled and tugged him gently by the hand toward the hostess stand to inquire about a table.

The whole day he let her lead, let her choose where they wandered and what sights they saw. The exuberance she showed, the absolute wonder at being in this beautiful part of Italy tugged at something within him. He had been here before, but visiting it with her - it was as if he was seeing it all for the first time, as if he was experiencing things thoroughly new and exciting to him.

The feeling was invigorating, just as it always was. Two years now of feeling happier than he had ever thought possible, two years of his spirit feeling lighter than air. The whole day he watched her face and basked in the eager way she led him this way and that whenever something caught her fancy.

When it began to get closer to sunset, he finally tugged her hand gently. “Let’s go back and grab some sweaters,” he suggested. “It’s starting to get chilly.”

She nodded and let him lead her back through the streets to the villa, not questioning at all his sudden guidance after a day of letting her choose everything. They made their way through the villa to the bedroom, and when she slipped into the bathroom he dug through his suitcase and pulled out the pair of socks he was looking for.

With another careful glance at the bathroom door he pulled the blue box from one of the socks and opened it to inspect. A part of him was irrationally worried it had disappeared, or been damaged, and he picked it up carefully between his fingers. The large diamond sparkled in the soft lighting of the room, the smaller diamonds surrounding it and covering the band glittering splendidly. He turned it in the light to make certain there wasn’t a smudge or blemish on the central emerald-cut diamond. Five carats, reflecting the light at him without a single mark.

It was the perfect ring, and he’d spent months picking it out, had spent as much money as it took to get something that adequately represented how he felt about her. Picturing it on her finger he smiled, thinking of the way it would announce to any who saw her that she was his.

With that thought he delicately placed it back in the cushion before he snapped the box shut and pocketed it. He pulled his sweater from the suitcase and laid it on the bed before he wandered out onto the terrace. It wrapped around the entire villa, but the portion outside their bedroom led down to the water and a private boat slip.

The villa’s butler was still standing on the boat that was waiting, finishing the preparations as John had instructed him. There was a large picnic basket tucked against one of the blue and white striped seats, and a champagne bucket waited with ice beside it. When the butler saw John standing there he smiled and held his hands out, gesturing at the preparations as if asking for approval. John nodded and smiled.

“Bene,” John told him. “Molto bene, grazie.”

“Si signore,” the butler agreed. “Desidera altro, signore?”

“No, grazie,” John said. “È tutto pronto?”

“Si, signore, tutto pronto,” the butler assured him.

“Bene,” John said. With one last look over the boat, he turned back to the villa and wandered through the open doors to the bedroom.

“Hey, so I was thinking, what if we find a place on a patio somewhere and watch the sunset?” Abby suggested when she saw him walk back into the room. She smiled as she pulled a white cardigan on over her sundress before she ran a hand through her hair. He watched as she closed the distance between them, still smiling radiantly.

“Watching the sunset sounds perfect, gorgeous,” he murmured as he pushed her hair behind her ear. “Come here, though, let’s sit on the terrace for a moment. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and she slipped her hand into his.

He quickly grabbed his sweater from the bed before he led her out onto the terrace, trying to fight the smile on his face so that he didn’t give away the surprise. As soon as they stepped to the edge of the terrace Abby gasped, staring down at the boat that was waiting for them.

“Is that - what’s -” she stuttered out, and then glanced up at him with her eyebrows raised high. “Is that for us?”

“Of course,” he told her with a smirk. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday dinner, so - how does a sunset picnic on Lake Como sound, gorgeous?”

“It sounds perfect!” she nearly squealed, and she threw her arms around his neck. “You spoil me.”

“I do, don’t I?” he teased with a playful frown. “Only because I love you.”

The look of love in her eyes at the words, the unbridled joy and excitement about his surprise, the eager way she kissed him and told him she loved him - it all made his heart race and he smiled. He would give her everything, and make certain it was perfect - just like she was.

John helped her down to the boat, holding her hand as she stepped carefully over the side. He followed and pulled his sweater on as he made his way to the wheel. “Ready, gorgeous?”

She giggled and came to stand beside him, looking out at the lake before them. “Aye, aye, Captain!” she agreed eagerly, and she clung to his arm as she dissolved into laughter.

With a chuckle he turned the motor on and slowly began to pull out of the slip, carefully guiding the boat onto the lake. For a few minutes they simply stared at the scenery together as he sailed them further out, away from shore and away from other boats on the water. When they had reached the spot he had decided on and planned for, he stopped the boat and turned off the motor. He smiled and winked at her before he gestured to the picnic basket. “Well then, picnic, m’dear?”

She giggled again and nodded, making her way to one of the bench seats. While he grabbed the picnic basket and champagne bucket, she unfolded the small table’s leaves so that they could use it.

“Face this way, gorgeous,” he told her, pointing toward some of the mountains surrounding the lake. “Optimal sunset viewing.”

She stood and changed seats, facing the way he had pointed, and he set the picnic basket on the table before he took the seat beside her. “Who packed all this up for us?”

“Alessandro,” he told her. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

He knew what was in the picnic basket, he had specified it all, but the eager way her eyes lit up as she opened the wicker lid and began to pull out items was worth pretending he didn’t know. When she pulled out the prosecco that was in the basket he smiled and took it from her, working on opening it as she continued to lay out their picnic. Salami, prosciutto, cheeses, olives and breads, fruits and even a freshly made savory torta all took their place on the small table in front of them. She delicately removed the champagne flutes that had been wrapped in napkins, and placed one before each of them.

“Handsome, this looks - holy shit,” she muttered. “This is so perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he told her as he poured them both prosecco. He placed the bottle into the ice bucket he had resting on the wood ledge beside their seat before he held out his flute to her. “Happy birthday, gorgeous - and to many, many more together.”

Abby giggled, biting her lower lip as she clinked her glass against his. “Cheers,” she said softly.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek before he set down his glass and picked up an olive, popping it in his mouth as he watched her begin to pick over the food before them. As they ate they talked about the lake, about Italy, speaking of what they had done in the other cities. The sun began to set and they leaned back to watch it, sipping their prosecco and occasionally commenting on the colors and reflections in the lake.

He glanced aside at her, taking in the breathtaking look of awe on her face as she drank in the sunset. The moment was perfect: orange, red, pink, and purple streaked across the sky over the mountains and reflected in the water so that the whole world was saturated with beauty. Setting down his glass, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the light blue box.

“Abby,” he began, voice firm and sure, “these last two years with you have been the happiest of my life. You’ve brought me joy I can’t even begin to describe.”

She smiled and glanced at him, clearly just thinking he was being romantic, that he was simply taking the moment to tell her he loved her. When she caught sight of the box in his hand her jaw dropped, and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “John -”

“Abby, gorgeous - you’re the love of my life,” he continued, and he finally opened the box to show her the ring. Her eyes widened as she stared at it, and then she glanced up at him, the deep colors of the sunset reflecting back at him from the dark pools of her eyes. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment she seemed speechless, looking between him and the ring. Finally she lowered her hand, revealing a bright smile. “Yes, I - yes, yes, yes!” she cried, and she set her glass down quickly so she could throw her arms around his neck. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as he felt as if his heart was full to bursting. When she pulled back slightly he leaned down and captured her lips with his, twisting his mouth against hers eagerly. Her fingers ran through his hair as she kissed him back, and for several long moments he simply savored the passion, the fact that she had said yes.

He released her, sitting back slightly so that he could pick the ring up from the box. Taking her hand in his he slid the ring onto her finger, pleased that it was a perfect fit, just as he’d planned. The sight of it on her thin finger filled him with pride, a possessiveness coming over him, and he smiled. Turning her hand slightly he took a moment to admire the sight, and then glanced up at her once more.

“John, it’s - wow,” she said breathlessly. “I - I never expected - I just - oh my god so many feelings.” She giggled a little and reached for her flute of prosecco, draining the rest before she glanced back down at the ring.

“You deserve the best,” he told her, reaching for the bottle to refill her glass. “Always. And I’ll spend a lifetime making sure you have it.”

Abby looked up at him with tenderness in her gaze, and he cupped the back of her head with his hand and pulled her closer for a kiss. “I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled against her lips, returning the sentiment, assuring her that he always would as he pressed kiss after kiss to her. She seemed to melt against him, leaning into his embrace as she listened to his words and returned his kisses.

“Let’s - let’s go back to the villa,” she suggested.

A smirk tugged at John’s lips, but he shook his head. “Not yet, let’s stay out here just a bit longer.”

“It’s dark now, we should head back. I have - other ways I want to celebrate my birthday, and now this, too,” she purred. “Come on, handsome.” She slid her hand to his crotch, palming his hardening cock through his pants while she nibbled on his earlobe.

It was tempting, but he looked at his watch behind her back and saw the time. “Just a few more minutes, Kitten,” he told her. “And then I’ll take you back and spend all night worshipping the future Mrs. Baker for her birthday.”

A soft, disappointed moan met his words, but she pressed a kiss to his cheek and then leaned back against his chest so she could look out over the lake once more. “I suppose it is beautiful out here -”

As she said it a loud pop sounded and a shower of white sparks lit up the sky. Abby startled slightly in his arms and looked up, staring wide-eyed as another sparkling firework burst into being over the lake. Two more went off, and she watched them before she turned to look at John. “Did you - did you do this?”

He smiled and pulled her back into his arms. “I thought maybe the occasion warranted something special,” he told her.

She giggled and settled in his embrace, staring up at the display that was just for her. White, yellow golden, and red fireworks continued to light up the sky, sending sparks of color out through the darkness to be reflected in the waters of the lake. Every time a shower of yellow cascaded over the lake he smiled and glanced her way. He had made certain to request them, to shower her with her favorite color, another way to show her just how special she was to him.

When the display finally ended she turned loving eyes up to him, smiling brightly. “Thank you,” she murmured. “This was all just - so perfect. I feel - I feel like a princess or something.”

He cupped her face and kissed her slowly, languidly moving his lips against hers for several long moments before he pulled away. “Are you ready to go back, future Mrs. Baker?”

She bit her lower lip and nodded her head, and he pressed another kiss to her before he released her. While he secured the items in the picnic basket, she sat finishing her prosecco and staring at the ring on her finger, turning it this way and that as she admired it. It brought a smile to his face, and he started up the motor again to guide them back to the villa.

After he carefully pulled the boat into the slip he turned it off once more and turned to help her step over the side. The butler was standing on the terrace waiting for them, and John saw his eyes dart to Abby’s left hand, a wide smile breaking across his face as he spotted the ring. “Ah, congratulazioni!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Beautiful ring, signorina, bellissimo! Excellent choice, signore. Do you require anything else this evening? I left another bottle of prosecco in your room, as requested, signore.”

John smiled as he casually tossed the keys to the boat, and the other man caught them easily. “Grazie,” he said. “That should be all tonight, Alessandro.”

“Molto bene, signore,” the butler said with a slight bow. “Buona notte, signore - signorina.”

“Buo-buona notte, Alessandro,” Abby said cheerfully, waving at him as she smiled brightly.

John placed his hand in the small of her back as he guided her up the stairs and across the terrace. Once inside their bedroom Abby stopped and looked around, taking in the many candles that had been lit, the red rose petals that had been strewn about the bed and floor.

“Just when I thought the surprises were over,” she murmured.

John chuckled and moved to stand behind her, sliding the cardigan off her shoulders. “What can I say, it seemed like at least one more was called for,” he told her as he tossed the cardigan to a nearby chair.

She turned in his arms, staring up at him with renewed tenderness in her eyes. Her lips were parted, glistening slightly, and the thought of everything he wanted to do to her made his heart begin to race.

“Do you want to play, Kitten?” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against hers.

“Yes, handsome,” she answered breathlessly.

When he scooped her up she let out a trickle of excited giggles, wrapping her arms tight about his neck as he carried her to the bed.

 

* * *

  

The quartet all seemed to take a breath at the same time, and then the gentle chords of Pachabel’s Canon began, mingling with the sound of the ocean waves behind him. The guests all stood and turned, soft murmurs heralding the entrance they were all expecting. John ran a hand over the front of his white suit and glanced to the side, catching the eye of his brother beside him and smiling. He looked straight ahead again, eagerness flooding him as he realized he could see two figures rounding the corner on their way to the aisle.

When she caught his eye Abby smiled, and the happiness he could see even at this distance only added to her radiance. The soft sheen of the creamy satin dress she wore made her almost glow in the sun, hair pulled back on one side with glittering diamond clips that caught the light as well. Her dress was simple, low cut and hanging alluringly on her thin frame, a soft slit up to her knee creating a beautiful flow as she walked through the sand toward him.

She was a vision, and he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her - not that he wanted to.

Their progression was unhurried, Abby slowing frequently to make certain her mother wasn’t struggling in her steps. But the whole time she smiled, and every time she looked up from checking on her mother her eyes found John, as if he was the only person standing on that beach.

He stepped forward to meet them, accepting Abby’s hand from her mother after he greeted her with a handshake. Beside him, his brother stepped forward to help escort Jacqueline to her seat in the front row, offering her his arm to do so. But John simply focused on the sight of Abby smiling up at him, giggling as he led her to their places before the officiant.

“You look stunning, Abby,” John whispered softly, bestowing a loving smile on her when she looked up at him.

“Thank you,” she whispered back, giggling as the officiant began the ceremony and the guests were seated.

The words of the ceremony came to him as if over a great distance, hardly keeping his attention as he simply stared down into the shining chocolate depths of his bride’s eyes. Occasionally they whispered to one another, both smiling and laughing softly as they did.

“Do you, Abigail Jane Henderson, take John Wesley Baker to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do you part?” the officiant asked.

Abby glanced at the officiant as he said the vow, and then smiled back up at John and nodded. “I do.”

“And do you, John Wesley Baker, take Abigail Jane Henderson to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do you part?” the officiant repeated to John.

Without a second’s hesitation John replied, “I do.”

A scattering of cheers and applause greeted the pronouncement, and one of the bridesmaids behind Abby let out a whoop. Abby shook her head and looked down at where John was holding her hands, blushing slightly.

“Do you have the rings?”

John turned to his brother and held out a hand, accepting the thin platinum ring from him. They turned to face one another again, Abby holding a thicker, brushed platinum ring in her fingers. He noticed her hands shook a little as she tried to slide the ring on his finger, but her voice was clear and deliberate as she repeated after the officiant. John slid her ring on her finger as he repeated the same promise, lightly running his thumb over her fingers once the ring was on.

“John, you may now kiss the bride,” the officiant proclaimed.

Immediately John slid his hand into her hair, pulling her to him as he leaned down and crushed his lips to hers. She was smiling against his kiss, soft giggles escaping as he delved his tongue into her mouth to touch to hers. Beyond them he could hear cheers and applause, some gasps and whoops, but he was otherwise blissfully unaware of anything but the taste of her on his tongue.

When he finally released her he smiled down into her wide eyes, noticing the breathless way she was holding his gaze. He took her hand in his and turned to face the crowd, still grinning ear to ear as he looked out over the friends and family cheering their approval. Leading Abby back down the aisle, he nodded at people as they passed by, holding tightly to her hand as if he never wanted to let go.

The sand was warm on his feet, the gentle sea breeze ruffling his hair as he pulled her back into his arms at the end of the aisle. Their photographer continued to circle around them, taking photos, but John hardly noticed - he simply wanted to take advantage of another chance to kiss her.

“Mrs. Baker,” he told her, and he loved the way her face lit up and her smile widened.

“Mr. Baker,” she returned before she giggled. “There’s an inscription in your ring, handsome.”

Ignoring the people filing by them, the comments of congratulations, the bridesmaids and groomsmen trying to coordinate the beginning of pictures, he slipped the ring off his finger to inspect.

_Handsome & Kitten Forever xoxo _

The elegant script tugged at his heart, the subtle, everyday reminder of what they were to one another. When he met her gaze again he saw her worrying her bottom lip as if she was anxiously awaiting his approval.

“I love it,” he murmured, sliding the ring back onto his finger before he pulled her back into his arms for a kiss.

“Hey, there’s time for that later!” one of the bridesmaids chided. “Picture time, Abby baby - come on, while everyone’s walking over to the reception. Need to get your mom back under some shade too -”

John ignored the rest of the younger woman’s prattle, pressing a kiss to Abby’s forehead before he released her to head in the same direction as the wedding party and their families. Abby skipped beside him in the sand, kicking it a little with her bare feet, giggling when she glanced down at his. It had been something they both eagerly agreed to, a more casual ceremony with bare feet and few decorations so that they could simply enjoy the secluded beach’s scenery. After all, they had said, why else have a destination wedding in the Virgin Islands?

Time seemed to speed by, focused solely on following instructions from the photographers, wishing he had a drink and a few moments alone with his new bride. The feeling of her skin on his hand as it rested on her back was tempting him, and occasionally as they stood for pictures he ghosted his hand along her spine, bared by the dress almost to the slope of her rear. Each time he did this she shifted slightly, leaning into him, chancing a smile up at him when she could. The only bearable pictures where the ones they took together, the ones where the photographer encouraged them to run or walk along the beach, to hold hands, embrace, and kiss.

It felt like ages before they were done, but soon they were all making their way to the reception further along the beach. Chairs and tables surrounded a wooden platform that served as a dance floor, strings of cafe lights hanging in neatly swooping rows over the entire space. Beside him Abby let out a soft _“ooo!”_ when she saw it, and she grinned up at him. As they approached, his brother Matthew stepped to the microphone placed in front of the small jazz band and held out an arm to gesture to them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time, presenting Mr. and Mrs. Baker!” Matthew announced, and the guests at the tables and mingling by the bar all began to cheer and clap.

Abby giggled and held up her bouquet, waving at the crowd as John led her to the head table. They took their places, intending to begin their salads, to drink the wine and scotch that were waiting for them, but as soon as they sat guests began to approach to congratulate them. Time passed in a blur, moving from one conversation to the next, often before the first had even finished, and they found themselves separated as they mingled with their friends and family.

The sun set and the air cooled, the sound of jazz music and ocean waves accompanying the chatter of the crowded reception. Across the dance floor space he could see Abby standing at the bar with her bridesmaids, counting down a shot before she threw her head back and drained the small glass of what was likely whiskey. When they finished they all began laughing, Abby throwing one hand above her head before she happily cried, “I’m married!” The bridesmaids cheered, several of them wrapping their arms around Abby in a giant hug.

“You sure can pick them,” a deep voice muttered from beside him.

John glanced to the side to see Matthew standing there, a smirk on his face as he swirled the scotch in his glass. He passed a second to John and then raised his in a toast. “Congrats,” he said. “I’m happy for you.”

Lifting his glass as well before he took a sip, John looked across the reception again to where his bride was now taking pictures with her bridesmaids. “Thank you,” he finally commented. “She’s...perfect.”

Matthew followed his gaze, staring at Abby as she crossed the reception to where her mother was standing up from her seat. “She’s something. I thought Mom was going to have a fit when she saw those tattoos.”

John chuckled, shaking his head as he took another sip of his drink. “She’ll get used to them. Or at least, she has to,” he mused.

Matthew laughed as well, clapping John on the shoulder. “True, true. I think Mom’s still just upset to have lost Connie - after all, she would have never even dreamed of getting a tattoo. Too much class - Mom never had a bad word to say about that one. It makes sense you’d go for someone a bit more laidback now, though.”

John glanced sidelong at Matthew, a scowl knitting his brows together. It had been a trying weekend, what with Abby tripping over her words and clearly tongue-tied every time she spoke with his family, the way they all seemed to look down their noses at her and treat her as if she was a temporary distraction. He glared down at the scotch in his hand before he managed to calm himself enough to reply. “Well, Matt, it may be hard to believe, but Connie and I weren’t well suited. And Abby’s my soul mate. I appreciate you coming out from London to be my best man, but -”

“Whoa, whoa - John, sorry,” Matthew placed a hand over his heart as he laughed, “I didn’t mean anything by it! Connie was too uptight, I know you’ve always liked excitement. Remember when we almost got arrested climbing that statue in college?”

John stared at him for a moment before he started laughing. “Told them we were simply trying to get a good look at the street sign,” he muttered. “Good times.”

“And thus, a lawyer was born,” Matthew added dramatically, gesturing his glass of scotch as if he was on stage delivering a line.

For a moment they both laughed, staring at the scotch in their hands as they recalled the memory. But John looked up to search out Abby again, wanting to tell her the story, to see if she and Matthew could maybe bond over silly stories of youthful, drunken debauchery. It took him a moment to find her, though, and when he did his brows sank into a deep frown. She was walking back from the direction of the resort, her lips pressed together and her head hanging.

“I - sorry, I need to,” John apologized to Matthew, shrugging helplessly as he gestured toward Abby. He pushed through the crowd, quickly brushing off people who tried to stop him to speak with rushed apologies. When he reached her he gripped her arm with a hand, pulling her closer to him as he peered down at her with concern. “Gorgeous, everything all right?”

She stared up at him, eyes slightly glassy and unfocused before she nodded, and then she shook her head. “Mom - wasn’t feeling well, she had to go back to her room already,” she told him softly, and then she sniffled. “I was hoping she could stay for us cutting the cake and our first dance, but - she needs her rest.”

“Oh, gorgeous, I’m so sorry,” he hurried to say. He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he rested his lips on her hair. “She was there for the ceremony, and she made it through pictures, the reception is halfway over. She just needs rest, it’ll - it’ll be okay.”

He could feel her nod her head against him, but her fingers gripped the lapels of his suit as she nestled into him. “I - I know, I just - this is a big day for me, for us - I feel so stupid, I - forget it.”

John cradled the back of her head with a hand, and as a waiter passed with a tray he set aside his scotch. “What if we danced, hm, gorgeous? Would that make you feel better? We could do the first dance now.”

She thought for a moment before she nodded her head again and leaned back to peer up at him. “Maybe that would distract me,” she agreed softly.

John smiled at her and kissed her forehead before he led her to where the band was playing. He mouthed to the lead, and then gestured to the dance floor. They nodded and quickly cut off the song they had been playing, and then the familiar chords of Nat King Cole began. John tugged Abby’s hand and pulled her to him on the empty dance floor, resting his hand on her lower back as he began to sway in time to the music with her.

“L - is for the way you look - at me,” he sang along softly. “O - is for the only one - I see -”

“V - is very, very - extraordinary,” she chimed in, and soft giggles slipped from her throat as he twirled her around the dance floor. “E - is even more than anyone that you adore -”

“And love is all that I can give - to you,” John continued. “Love is more than just a game for two.”

“Two in love can make it - take my heart and please don’t break it,” Abby sang, more loudly as he spun her in place before pulling her back into his arms.

“Love was made for me and you,” John finished. He glanced down at her and grinned when he saw the way she was staring up at him, and he spun her away from him again before he guided her back into his arms. She was laughing, carefree once more, letting him guide her around the dance floor as she held his gaze, both oblivious to anyone or anything else around them.

When the words repeated they sang them together once more, not caring if they were out of tune, if they were laughing too hard to make sense. She was in his arms and acting as if he was her world, and the way his heart soared at the realization that she was his - Mrs. Baker, his wife, his forever - made everything else melt away.

 

* * *

 

There was nothing but the sound of crashing waves, not even really any electrical buzzing, no bustle or noise that indicated any sort of civilization nearby. The private villa didn’t even have a staff - things had been prepared before they arrived, the kitchen stocked, everything laid out, but now that they were there - just silence, and peace.

No one around for miles.

John stood on the beach looking over the ocean, enjoying the horizon that simply held nothing but water and sky. It had been years since he’d really let himself rest, to forget everything else entirely. When he looked to the right he saw the tiny stretch of runway, the small aircraft they had flown to the island the day before. And now they’d have over a week, just the two of them, nothing to do but enjoy themselves and relax.

He looked to the left, further down the beach, and saw the solitary figure lying stretched out in the sun. With a slow smirk he began to saunter her way, intent to enjoy the sight of her. As he approached he slowed, drinking in the heavenly vision she posed.

A large blue blanket covered the sand beneath her, and she was reclining on her back, arms resting above her head, one knee bent while she lazily tapped the air with her other foot. She was naked except for her yellow bikini bottom, the side strings tied into large bows. Her skin was sun-kissed, even more golden after the time they'd spent in the sun the last few days. The sand crunched softly under his feet as he approached her, his eyes roaming greedily and avidly over her naked form. Her breasts were taut, round globes with rosy peaks that almost begged for the attention of his mouth.

“Is that someone with my piña colada?” she teased softly as he stopped at the edge of the blanket. Her eyes remained closed, but the corners of her mouth tugged up slightly in a subtle grin.

“I forgot it,” John told her. “But I think I have something better.”

“Oh?” she asked, and she stretched her arms, straightening them as her back arched and thrust her bare breasts skyward.

“Definitely,” he murmured. He carefully stepped onto the blanket, trying to make certain he didn’t kick sand onto it as he slid his swim trunks off and threw them aside. Dropping to his knees he ghosted his hand along her stomach, noticing the way she sucked it in before he continued his caresses up to one of her breasts. He cupped it and squeezed gently, causing her to moan as her back arched off the blanket once more.

“John,” she purred, thrusting her chest up to seek out more of his attentions. “Please.”

He smirked at the word and shifted so he could settle over her, keeping himself propped up arms’ length above her as he watched her flutter her eyes open. The touch of his lips to hers was gentle, teasing and exhilarating before he dragged his mouth lower down her throat. A soft whimper escaped her lips as he swirled his tongue over her nipple, relishing the way it pebbled and hardened in response. He caught it between his teeth and tugged gently, flicking it with his tongue simultaneously, only stopping when a deep moan greeted the action. The sound would never get old to him, of that he was certain.

His wife, his forever - to do with as he pleased, to make her writhe and gasp beneath him whenever it suited his fancy.

Like now.

One of his hands wandered over her, gripping and caressing her bare flesh as he moved the wet attentions of his mouth to her other breast. Her whole body shuddered under him, tensing and then releasing as she gasped in response to his hungry mouth.

“John,” she mewled. “Handsome I want - I want -”

“What do you want, Kitten?” he asked hoarsely before he sucked at the breast he was holding in one hand.

“I want you, I want you to - I want your tongue, I want you inside me,” she hurried to say. “Please - please, handsome. Please. I can’t wait.”

“My tongue?” he murmured, dragging it between her breasts and lower below her navel. His hands he used to slide her bikini bottom off, dragging it down her thighs as she wriggled her legs impatiently. “Is that what you want, Kitten?”

“Fuck,” she breathed, arching slightly against him, “yes, I want - please - John, please -”

“This?” he prompted again, and he flicked his tongue teasingly, briefly against her clit.

The cry that it pulled from her throat made him smile, and he glanced up at her as he slid his flattened tongue between her folds more slowly, only once. “Or like this?”

An almost pained whimper escaped her lips, and she rolled her hips toward him. “That - I want that, I want you - please, use your - fuck -”

She trailed off into incoherent moans and cries as he continued to drag his tongue along her, his head rocking against her sex as he lapped greedily at her. Her sobs escalated as she rolled her hips against his mouth, and he relished the way she responded with breathy gasps of his name and pleas for more. He was doing this to her - the only one from now on who could do this to her, and he eagerly watched her face as he continued moving his tongue against her in undulating waves.

When he slid a finger inside her she gave a startled scream, rolling her hips as she sought more friction on his tongue. He followed with another finger, curling them and stroking her inner walls as he continued to lick at her swollen clit. She fell apart suddenly with a loud cry of his name, her whole body writhing as her thighs shook beside his ears. He continued swirling his tongue along her before she pushed his head back with her hand and a whimper.

“I can’t - fuck - that was - oh, John,” she sighed. “You’re wonderful.”

He chuckled and pushed himself back onto his elbows above her. “So are you,” he murmured. “Come here.”

After he said it he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him until she was straddling his hips and could rub her wet sex against his hard cock.

“Is this what you want now, handsome?” she purred.

“Y-yes,” he agreed, his eyes clenching tight as his fingers dug into her hips. “Kitten I want - I need you.”

She took him in her hand to slide herself down until she covered him, both of them moaning once he rested snugly within her. His hands tightened on her hips, helping to lift her once she started bouncing herself on him. Each movement she made was accented by a gasping moan from her throat, her head thrown back and her eyes closed.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off her, fighting the way his eyes wanted to shut in response to the pleasure racing through him each time she thrust down. The sun on her hair and skin made her glow golden, and he laid back admiring the way she looked framed by a cloudless sky and rolling ocean waves behind her. Her pert breasts were heaving with every movement, her tight muscles flexing and undulating as she rocked her hips against him.

When she started to thrust more shallowly he could tell she was getting closer, her pants of his name sounding slightly more desperate as she fluttered around him. Releasing one of her hips he rested his thumb against her clit, rubbing lightly as he used the hand gripping her hip to encourage her to move faster. She rolled her hips against his thumb, her love cries rising in volume as she was pushed even closer to the edge. Her climax hit her suddenly and she braced herself on his chest with both hands, calling his name and swearing as she shuddered, frantically grinding her hips on him.

As soon as she finished he quickly grabbed both of her wrists, moving to hold them in one hand behind her back while he braced his feet to give himself leverage. She gasped when he started thrusting up, pounding himself into her in a rapid, unrelenting pace.

“J-John - oh fuck -” she cried breathlessly.

“I want you to come again, Kitten,” he commanded her.

“John, I - handsome I’m -” she protested between moans, but he moved his thumb back to her clit and began stroking it in rhythm with his thrusts. A sob sounded from her throat and he smiled, still admiring the way her breasts were bouncing wildly as he fucked her.

“Be a good girl for me, Mrs. Baker,” he told her. “Come.”

It only took a few moments after he commanded her, and he almost found himself disappointed for a moment that they were alone on the island. That no one else was around to hear the desperate way she screamed his name as she fell apart was a shame, but one he didn’t linger on for long. Instead he focused on the way she was clenching him, the way she was shaking and writhing against him, her wrists twisting and struggling slightly in his hand. He thrust up a few more times to chase his release, groaning when he found it deep inside her as she met his thrusts in an attempt to prolong it for him.

John let go of her wrists and slid his arms around her back, pulling her down onto his chest to hold her against him. They were breathing heavily, and he could feel her heart racing, its speed and wild rhythm matching his. He cupped the back of her head, twisting his fingers into her silky hair, noticing that it was slightly dampened with sweat.

“Oh, Kitten,” he murmured with a sigh before he pressed his lips to her hair. “Do you know what you do to me? How desperate I always am for you?”

Abby giggled and turned her head, resting her chin on his chest so she could meet his gaze. “I have a pretty good idea,” she answered slowly. “I love it when you show me, though.”

He chuckled and tenderly brushed her hair away from her face. “I’ll be sure I keep it up, then,” he agreed. “The sight of you lying in the sun like this was just too tempting to ignore.”

“You’ll get plenty of it this week,” she assured him. “After all we’re in paradise. I can’t think of a better way to enjoy it than being lazy on the beach and fucking each other’s brains out.”

She emphasized the words with a slow, deep kiss, one hand caressing his cheek as she ran her tongue along his. When she pulled away she smiled before giving him another quick kiss, and then she suddenly pushed herself up and clambered off of him.

“Where are you going, Kitten?” he asked, propping himself on his elbows to watch her backing away from the blanket.

“I’m all hot and sweaty, and there’s a perfectly good ocean just _waiting_ to cool me down,” she told him. “Wanna join me?”

His eyes wandered over her, taking in the dewy glisten on her skin, the way she trailed a hand down her chest and stomach to tempt him. With a wide grin he hurried to push himself to his feet to follow her, but when he took a few steps she squealed and turned quickly to dash toward the water.

“Can’t catch me!” she called out to him.

He barely hesitated before he charged after her, reaching her just as their feet were greeted by the tide, cool water welcome on his hot soles. With an arm wrapped tight around her waist he lifted and swung her slightly, laughing at the way she screamed playfully and giggled as he carried her further into the water.

This feeling in his chest, the lightness of being with her, the happiness that overwhelmed him until it felt a visceral, tangible thing inside him was the only thing he knew. They frolicked in the waves together, splashing and laughing, wrapping their arms around one another as the water crashed over them and made their slow kisses salty.

She was his everything - his youth, his joy, his wild passion, the thing that made him see life and the world around him with new appreciation. His - now and forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their wedding song was ["L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JErVP6xLZwg).


	6. Haunting Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, lovelies, this is going to get a little rough, get your tissues ready or just message me for a summary of the chapter if you like. CW/TW for character/parental death and extreme grief.
> 
> I love you all, I promise I don't torture without good reason.
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

“Let me - let me get you some more water, you’re almost out,” Abby said. As she stood up from the chair beside the hospital bed she almost seemed to flutter, to vibrate with energy. Quickly picking up the large, handled bottle from the nightstand she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Jackie’s forehead. “Be right back.”

With a glance to John and a soft, heartbreaking smile in his direction she hurried from the room. John put his hands in his pockets and took a few steps forward. Now that they were alone, there was a tension in the room that hadn’t been there before, and he wondered if it was simply his expectation that soon - any moment, maybe even while Abby was out of the room - it could happen.

_“She’s weaker today, we’ve had to give her more to keep the pain down. We can send one of our counselors or clergy to you, all you need to do is ask. I - I think - you need to prepare yourselves. We’ll keep her as comfortable as we can.”_

At the nurse’s words Abby had straightened her back slightly, but her lips had trembled as she nodded, blinking rapidly. For a few weeks now they had come daily, Abby staying most of the day in the large hospice room and John joining when he was done at the office. More than once Abby had been reluctant to leave in the evenings, falling asleep on the sofa in the room or the chair beside the bed holding her mother’s hand.

Jackie shifted slightly, trying to scoot herself up, and John took a few long strides to the side of the bed. “Do you need me to call the nurse?”

“I’m not a - well I suppose I am an invalid,” Jackie muttered, and the weak, breathy quality to her voice as she attempted a chuckle worried him.

He glanced at where Abby had disappeared through the door before looking back at Jackie. “Are you sure -”

“I am,” she answered. Her stiff fingers curled on the blankets draped over her bony figure and pulled them up to her shoulders, almost painfully slow. She turned her bloodshot, slightly yellowed gaze to him. “Thank you for helping me get her to see reason.”

John raised his eyebrows slightly before he nodded. “Of course, I - I agreed with you, and she - well, she’s too close to the situation to see things clearly,” he said after a moment.

“Plus this way is easier for you,” Jackie mused softly.

“I - no, it’s what was best, for all involved,” he protested, and he frowned. They had both had to work to convince Abby to let Jackie transfer to a hospice center instead of taking her back to the penthouse to care for her there. Even with a nurse it would have been a strain, and John hadn’t liked the idea of Abby obsessing over caregiving every moment of the day.

“It’s all right, John,” she coughed slightly, “I didn’t much like the idea of dying in your perfect home either.”

His frown deepened, uncertain of how to respond. She had been slightly loopy on the medicine, but she almost seemed more lucid at the moment as she peered up at him. Before he could think of anything to say, she gave a weak chuckle.

“There’s very little reason to keep up this pretense now,” she murmured. “It’s okay to be honest that we don’t like one another -”

“Jackie, that’s not true, I -”

“It’s rude to interrupt a dying woman,” she chided him. “You know we’ve never fully gotten along, I can tell - you try, just to make Abigail happy.”

John swallowed, but didn’t try to say anything this time. Instead he simply stared at her as he waited for her to continue.

“It’s not because she married you - I accepted it. It was easier to put up with you than lose her entirely. She always did have a strong will, and me saying anything would have only served to push her away,” she continued with a weak inhalation of breath. Her piercing, calculated gaze almost belied the weakness of her voice as she held his rapt attention. “It’s because you’ll leave her.”

“No, Jackie, I won’t -” he began to protest again, but when he saw the look she gave him he fell silent.

“You aren’t the first to think so - pretty young thing, the solution to all your problems, your boredom,” she muttered. “I can’t prevent it from happening now, just like I couldn’t then. I just have one request, please, if you'll allow me that.”

He swallowed hard again, hands tightening into fists as he stared at her as if transfixed.

“When you leave her - let her go,” Jackie said, her tone suddenly firmer, eyes narrowing slightly. Any sign of loopiness was gone, and he wouldn't have doubted at all that she'd never meant anything she’d said more than she did these words.

“I - Jackie, I won't -” he stuttered out.

“Save me your denials and just promise me that you'll at least do that for her,” Jackie said, her tone almost snappish as she peered up at him critically. “She deserves to be freed, once you tire of her. Because even if you think you've tamed her, I can promise you - you can't. So please, just promise me now that you'll let her go without a fight.”

Anger boiled inside him, insides twisting with denials. Abby was his, his soul mate, his love, and the idea of leaving her, the accusations being presented made him want to argue. But what was the point? He could deny, and either because of her drug-fueled delirium or some resentment she seemed to harbor for him, she likely wouldn’t take his word for it.

She was dying. The nurse had implied she wouldn’t make it through the night. What was the harm in simply agreeing, in making a promise to a dying woman, the woman who had raised his wife and who mattered to her so much? It did nothing to negatively affect him, beyond wounding his pride a little, but no one else was there to see that. And making the promise could do everything to help ease her in her final hours.

“If - if things fall apart, Jackie, I promise,” he said quietly. “I’ll let her go.”

“More than that,” she insisted, and she wheezed for a moment before she could continue, the strain of speaking finally making itself obvious. “When you tire of her, when you realize you can’t - can’t tame and keep her in a cage. When you want to move on -”

“I promise I’ll let her go if things don’t work out,” he repeated, trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

Jackie gave him another piercing glare, but as she opened her mouth to speak once more footsteps sounded on the linoleum of the hall and Abby hurried through the door. She looked between them for a moment with a slight frown. “Something the matter?”

“No.”

“No.”

Abby only spared one moment frowning between them before she stepped quickly to her mother’s side and held out the water. Catching the straw between two fingers she guided it to Jackie’s lips and waited as she drank weakly. “Better?” she asked tentatively.

Jackie’s eyes darted to John for a brief moment before she nodded and smiled softly at Abby. “Thank you, Abigail,” she told her. She reached with a hand and took Abby’s fingers in hers, staring at them and rubbing her thumb across her daughter’s knuckles before she raised her gaze once more. “You’ve always made me so proud.”

“Oh come on, Mom, I’m not - I haven’t done - anything, really,” Abby stuttered out. She took the chair beside the bed again, leaning forward with her elbows resting on the mattress so that she was closer to her mother.

“I was talking about your spirit, Abigail,” her mother chided softly. “Kind, intelligent, independent,” she coughed for a moment, “I’ve always been so - proud, being your mother.”

“Even when I was sneaking out late during high school?” Abby teased, but there was a shaky quality to her voice and John could tell she was trying to hide the emotions she was feeling behind the joke.

Jackie chuckled weakly and shook her head. “I knew you were never getting into too much trouble,” she said. “You were too smart to do anything that would ruin your future.”

Abby giggled and squeezed her mother’s hand where she held it, but she didn’t respond, seemingly unable to at the moment.

“Speaking of - when are you going back to school?” Jackie asked, frowning as her head lolled slightly so she could look at Abby more directly.

“I - I hadn’t thought about it,” Abby answered. “I’ve been so busy with - um...”

“I won’t be holding you back for much longer,” Jackie finished for her. “And there isn’t another reason not to. You always talked about going to grad school. Don’t forget _your_ dreams. Even married you’re allowed to have your own goals, Abigail.”

John shifted slightly where he stood, but when Abby glanced back at him with a slight frown he met her with a smile. She returned it, just a bare quirk of her lips, and then turned back to face Jackie. At another piercing look from Jackie he turned to stare out the window, hands still in his pockets, feet braced apart as if he was standing in front of a jury.

He was still turning over her words, her certainty that he would tire of Abby, that he wouldn’t then simply let her go when he did. But her assertion was ludicrous, because the idea of ever letting Abby go never even crossed his mind. Over three years together now, and their first year of marriage had been so blissful - outside of taking care of her mother. When it was just the two of them, alone, he felt more content and fulfilled than he ever had before.

The implication that he might be holding her back from going to school and doing things for herself, too…

He lost himself in thought as he mulled over the words, as he tried to shake the irritation and anger they had inspired in him. Outside the sky darkened, and he listened to the gentle murmurs of Jackie and Abby behind him, the ragged breaths and hoarse coughs that punctuated the words.

Occasionally he caught snippets of what they were saying, like when Jackie questioned Abby on the way she was dressed, the pastel colors and floral print to her dress. “I know I always teased you for wearing black,” Jackie confessed softly. “But I know how much you liked it, how you said it made you feel like _you_.”

“I - I guess I just - grew up,” Abby replied, but her voice faltered.

“Are you sure that’s it?” Jackie asked, but the coughs that followed her words initiated an abrupt change of subject as Abby hurried to reach for her water.

John glanced behind him, frowning as he watched Abby hold water for her mother to drink, noticing the way it seemed Jackie was too weak to fully wrap her lips around the straw.

Soon, the nurse had implied.

Abby tenderly brushed hair off of Jackie’s forehead as she set the bottle of water down. Jackie’s eyes fluttered shut, her audible breaths accented with shaky rasps each time she shallowly inhaled and exhaled. When Abby glanced back at John over her shoulder, he saw the agony reflected in her eyes, and his heart ached.

He was at a loss, no experience to guide him, no way to know what he should do for her. If he could take her pain away he would in a heartbeat.

But he didn’t know how to do it.

Jackie seemed to struggle more intensely with her breath for a moment, a sharp grimace coming to her face. Abby hit the button for the nurse, her gaze wandering over her mother with concern as she waited.

When the nurse came in, she checked the many machines and made a few adjustments. Jackie stopped struggling, eyes closed for a moment as the increase in morphine began to take effect. The nurse glanced between Abby and John and gave a solemn nod before she departed the room once more.

“Michael?” Jackie asked suddenly, and then she shook her head as she reached out to Abby’s cheek with a hand. “Sorry, I - for a moment, I thought - you’re so much like him.”

Abby smiled, her eyes sparkling as if full of unshed tears. “It’s okay, Mom. Really.”

“You know,” Jackie murmured, her eyes blinking lethargically and her words slow and hushed. “When the - when the police told me, I kept it together. I didn’t cry until I realized - I was alone. I was sitting in the apartment, and it hit me - I’d never see him again, I’d never -”

“M-Mom,” Abby began, but Jackie shook her head and swallowed hard, as if it was difficult.

“I wanted to give up,” Jackie confessed. “I never told you - I never - let you see me like that. Because while I was crying, while I was - thinking life had nothing left for me without him,” she took a shallow, rasping breath, “you started kicking. With so much - feistiness. And life. It was - it was the first time you really had. I’d felt you move but not - not like that night. It was like you were - reminding me. I wouldn’t ever be alone, not really. And I had so much - so much to live for. Michael had given me you…”

When she fell silent, Abby seemed to tense for a moment, and then tentatively said, “Mom?”

Jackie’s eyes fluttered open again and when she saw Abby she smiled weakly. “You always were so stubborn,” she breathed. “I love that about you. Never - never forget that. I love you, Abigail…”

She trailed off again, her eyes blinking even more slowly until they closed. Abby seemed to tighten where she held her mother’s hand, leaning closer over her. “I love you too, Mom,” she said. Silence met her, and she stared for a moment. “Mom?”

Jackie smiled softly, opening her eyes to glance up at Abby. Her lips moved, but the words were so soft Abby had to bend over her, ear close to her mouth so that she could hear what she was saying. John’s heart raced, realizing the weakness she was showing -

She wasn’t falling asleep.

He stepped forward, trying to ready himself, brace himself, still at a loss for what words he could speak, what he could do to help his wife.

“Mom?” Abby said, peering down at Jackie. She shook the hand she held a little, knuckles white as if she was squeezing it with all her might. “Mom? Mom?”

Each time she said it, her voice rose in volume, until finally -

“Mom?!” she shouted, and the machines surrounding the hospital bed began to beep loudly. “No, no - Mom? Mom, no - wait - please -”

“Abby -” John tried to say, but she began to sob, still shouting for her mother, and he didn’t think she heard him.

The nurse hurried into the room, looking over the machines and Jackie’s prone figure. She took one wrist in her hand and placed her fingers on it, waiting while Abby stared at her anxiously, tears streaming down her cheeks. After a moment she laid the wrist back down on the bed and then looked at Abby, shaking her head. “I’m sorry -”

“No, no - you can’t, you have to - please, please -”

“Mrs. Baker, there’s a DNR, we have our instructions,” the nurse told her gently. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”

“No, she can’t be - don’t - don’t - Mom? Please - don’t leave me alone, don’t - Mom,” Abby cried. She was still shouting, her sobs becoming more hysterical, leaning over her mother’s body as if she could do something to bring her back.

“Abby - Abby, come here,” John said, and he closed the distance to pull her into his arms. “Come here, you’re not alone, I’ve got you,” he told her as he tried to take her by the shoulders. “I’m so sorry -”

“No,” she sobbed and she pushed him away. “Mom please - no, no, no -”

“Mrs. Baker, please -”

“No!”

“Abby, it’s all right -”

“No! Mom, Mom, please - come back -”

John tightened his fingers on her arms, trying to pull her away from the bed. She was inconsolable, sobbing and fighting his attempts to remove her from her mother’s side. Again and again she pleaded for her mother to wake up, and each time it tore through him. Helpless, he tried to think of what to do, what he could say, as the nurse tried in vain to calm Abby with words.

“ _Abigail_ , please,” John pleaded in a moment of desperation.

Something stilled in Abby, a shudder passing through her and she hit his hands away from her as she spun to face him. Mascara was running down her cheeks, but her eyes were filled with a new agony, and something that looked like pure fury.

“Never - call me - Abigail - _ever_ again,” she spat. “Not - not that. Not that -”

The fury left her eyes and she almost deflated, shoulders curling in as all the fight seemed to abruptly leave her. John was shaking, the reprimand she had snapped at him rattling around in his mind as he tried to understand his mistake. But she was almost crumpling in her sorrow, and he took her back into his arms, cradling her against his chest as she continued sobbing. She was no longer pleading, no longer screaming for her mother - but she went limp against him as her devastation overwhelmed her.

He held her tightly to him, one hand tangled in her hair, and he pressed gentle kisses to the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, gorgeous,” he murmured. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She only responded with more sobs, fingers clutching his shirt, unable to do anything but cry. He watched as the nurse and several others began to unplug the machines, as they made notes on clipboards - as they prepared the body. Keeping her cradled close to his chest so that she didn’t see any of this, he continued stroking her hair and whispering soft words of love and sympathy to her.

But all the while he thought about Jackie’s words - and Abby’s command, which even though he knew had been made in her grief, John had every intention of following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me writing this chapter:
> 
>  


	7. Weakness and Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline in this chapter (it's mentioned in passing, but I want to make certain it's clear):
> 
> A bit over two years since the last chapter, and two years between the scenes in this chapter. At the end of the chapter, we're almost at year 5/6 of their marriage (probably like...year 4.5).
> 
> These scenes are a bit more character development/relationship insight than plot development, but they're short for once at least.
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

“I did it!”

“Did what?” John asked as he looked up from pulling on his grey and tan Sperry sneakers.

Abby faltered slightly where she stood in the doorway of the bedroom, the arm she'd held out in a triumphant flourish lowering as she looked at him. “I - I defended my thesis today, don't you - don't you remember? I told you last night, you - you couldn't make it because you had court earlier?”

“Oh! I - sorry, gorgeous, such a long morning, I'm - of course I remember,” he hurried to assure her. “And it - I'm assuming it went well?”

“It did!” she told him, smiling brightly once more as she closed the distance between them. “That's why I'm late, grabbed a drink with Hannah and Nathan to celebrate, lost track of time. But,” she stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I'll get changed real quick so we can go, shouldn't take me long.”

He nodded as he checked his pockets to make certain he had everything and then fixed the collar of his light blue polo. His gaze moved to where Abby was shrugging out of her black motorcycle jacket. It had become an almost daily fixture since she brought it home over two years ago after her mother passed. He watched as she shimmied out of the slacks and silk blouse she was wearing, the professional wear he now recalled her setting out so carefully the night before.

When she went into the closet he almost sighed as she passed where floral sundresses hung and instead stopped before the drawers on her side. She pulled out a pair of denim shorts and a loose black top with thin straps, low cut and flowing. But he felt annoyed as she pulled the items on before she slipped on a pair of black strappy wedges.

The soft scallops of the neckline, the eyelet design and thin straps of the top all seemed to tease at her curves and reveal too much. He found himself biting back a demand that she wear something else, but he couldn’t resist asking, “aren’t you going to wear a jacket or sweater, too?”

“Ugh, no - it’s so hot out,” she answered as she fluffed her hair in front of her vanity’s mirror. “It was a mistake wearing my leather jacket earlier, but it was so chilly this morning when I left. We’re going to be outside, I’d rather not sweat my ass off.”

He felt his cheeks flex with the effort of holding back, keeping from snapping at her. They were already going to be late, and he didn’t feel like showing up to the picnic in the middle of an argument. “Ready?” he asked instead, and he cringed when he heard how clipped the question came out.

Abby frowned a little when she looked at him but then nodded. “Yep,” she answered, and she picked her sunglasses and purse up from where she’d left them. “Sorry I’m running us late, I -”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “Just - long day, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. But he noticed her looking at him out of the corner of her eye before she put her sunglasses on.

They made their way through the penthouse and to the elevator in silence, Abby pulling a chapstick out of her purse and applying some. He hated the way it tasted, and suddenly lamented that he hadn’t gotten a kiss from her before she put it on. To make up for it he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek as the elevator slowed. She smiled a little, but then merely walked off the elevator once the doors opened.

“Mr. and Mrs. Baker, where are you off to on this lovely spring day? Need the car?” the doorman greeted them as he opened the door.

“No, just going across the street,” John answered.

“Picnic,” Abby added, and she smiled brightly.

“It’s a fine day for it,” the doorman commented. “Have a good time!”

“Thanks Steve! Hope you’re enjoying the weather too,” Abby told him, and she seemed to slow, lingering to continue the conversation.

“I am,” the doorman answered. “Sure beats the rain we had the other day, kids had a soccer game that got cancelled.”

“Bummer! I  hope -”

“Abby, we’re - we’re running late,” John cut in. “Come on,” he gestured a hand, reaching with his other to the small of her back to encourage her along, “let’s go.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” she muttered. “See you later, Steve!”

“Have fun, Mrs. Baker,” the doorman called after them.

John kept his hand at her waist, taking up a brisk pace down and across the street into the park. She walked beside him, keeping up with his steps, but she didn’t say anything. He noticed her gaze wandering, taking in the blossoming trees and flowers lining the paths. But she didn’t really look at him, and she kept her arms down instead of putting one around him in turn like she usually did.

When they finally arrived at the picnic area, John put on a smile and found himself pulled away from Abby as he sought out the other partners to say hello and talk about work. For a while he lost track of things, lost in discussion about the case that morning and other clients’ concerns. It was standard for these events, falling into talk about work, but usually Abby stood beside him while he did so.

During a lull in jokes about the partners who were helping barbecue for the others, he looked around to search Abby out. When he caught sight of her he frowned, insides twisting slightly.

She was lounging on a lawn chair someone had brought, drinking from a water bottle as she listened and laughed along with the small group that seemed to be gathered around her. Some of the junior partners and associates were sitting on the grass and nearby chairs, and they all seemed to be conversing easily. A few of the younger men were almost getting rowdy as they all teased one another, and from this distance it almost looked as if they were - showing off.

And glancing at Abby occasionally as they did so.

From what he could tell, she wasn’t rebuffing them. She was smiling and giggling, looking carefree as she laid back on the chair as if she was just out sunbathing and relaxing. He felt irritated, wishing that she would look his way. After several moments of watching, he finally excused himself from the coworkers he’d been conversing with and slowly sauntered over to where she was.

“Hey - Abby, will you keep score?” one of the associates asked as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Sure - you guys doing shirts and skins?” she asked and then giggled.

“Not a bad idea - we’ll be skins,” another associate said, and he began to pull his shirt off to reveal his broad, muscular physique.

Abby giggled again, shaking her head. Before she could say anything, though, John stopped beside the group. “There you are, gorgeous,” he greeted her, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Hey handsome,” she said, looking up at him and shielding her eyes with a hand. “Want to help me keep score? Or are you busy?”

“Keep score for what?” he asked, frowning and looking at the associates and junior partners who were separating into teams, half of them removing their shirts.

“We’re playing touch football,” the shirtless, buff associate told him. “Abby’s going to keep score for us - you’re going to cheer me on, right?”

“I can’t play favorites if I’m keeping score,” she told him with a smirk.

John chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before he put his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Got room for one more?” he asked.

“Ooh, senior partner wants a piece?” one of the junior partners called over. “Shirts need one more if you want.”

John nodded, catching Abby’s eye and noticing the way her eyebrows rose slightly. But he smiled and went to join the team, listening as they divided and came up with plans for plays. It had been a while since he’d played, but he still jogged every morning and knew keeping up wouldn’t be an issue.

As they all took their places in the grass, John shot Abby a smile and a wink. “Wish me luck, gorgeous,” he called.

“Hey, I’m an impartial judge,” she called back, but she giggled and blew him a kiss.

“She’s your wife?” The associate who had asked Abby to cheer him on was standing near John, a surprised frown on his face.

“Yes,” John answered, feeling a little proud of the way the younger man seemed taken aback by the news.

“Jeez - I had no clue your wife was so hot,” the associate muttered. “What a catch, super hot and smart, too - she was telling us about her thesis -”

“Hey, you two gonna talk all day?” one of the players called.

John turned his focus to the field, or at least tried to - the younger man’s assertions about Abby had gotten under his skin. But the game started and he was able to bury his irritation, the way he wondered how it had been missed that she was his wife. He wished she’d stuck by his side for at least part of the picnic, so that that way some of the newer associates knew who she was.

He channeled the irritation into the game, though, doing his best to only focus on trying to score, incredibly determined to win. For only being touch football, the game picked up in intensity, both teams bending the rules about physical contact more and more as things got heated.

The play took him off guard, the body slamming into him surprising and disorienting. A loud pop and a tight, painful feeling blossomed in his shoulder as he collided with the ground, and for a moment he groaned as whoever had tackled him rolled off.

“Shit, sorry man -”

“It’s - fine,” he gritted out, though he knew he was lying when he realized he couldn’t move his shoulder.

“John! Fuck, are you okay?” Abby’s worried voice joined the commotion, and he felt her hands on his uninjured arm as she tried to help him up. When he looked her way he saw the concern in her frown, the way she was chewing her bottom lip.

“I’m - fine, gorgeous,” he repeated, but he grimaced as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Your shoulder -”

“I’m - here - come here,” he muttered, teeth clenched in the pain. He led her off the field, trying his best not to move his arm.

“Let me look at it,” she told him, guiding him to sit on the chair she had abandoned. “I think it’s dislocated -”

“I think you’re right,” he agreed with another grimace. “Fuck -”

“We should take you to get it fixed -”

“No, no, I’m - fine -”

“John, your shoulder is dislocated,” she repeated. “It needs to be reset -”

“We’ll just pop it back in, it’s fine,” he insisted. “That’s all a doctor would do anyway.”

“Are you fucking serious? I’ve never - let me ask one of the guys.” She began to push herself up from where she was kneeling in front of him, but he reached out with his good hand to grab her wrist.

“No, no - you can do it, I trust you,” he told her. He didn’t want the younger men to help him, didn’t want a fuss. He just wanted the pain in his shoulder to go away. Having Abby’s worried, undivided attention as she played nurse didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world, either. “You just pull it out and guide it back in, it’ll be easy.”

“What if I fuck it up?” she asked. “Seriously, let me grab -”

“No, Abby, just - please, it hurts,” he gritted out. “Just please fix it.”

She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him, then sighed and arched her neck. “Fine,” she agreed. She hesitated for a moment before she ran her fingers delicately along the injury. “Okay, so - um - this will hurt a fuck ton, I bet.”

“That’s all right,” he assured her.

“Ready?” she asked tentatively, chewing her bottom lip again as she peered down at him.

“Yeah - just do it,” he said. Clenching his teeth more tightly, he did his best to brace himself, refusing to let the pain show itself on his face or by groaning in response.

Abby gently lifted his arm, pulling it out as she did before she started to rotate it, trying to move quickly while still guiding it back into place correctly. The sharp pain made him grimace, eyes shutting as he bit harder, grinding his teeth together - but then the pain turned into a tight ache instead.

“B-better?” Abby questioned apprehensively as she dropped his arm. As he flexed it she stepped closer to him, taking her place between his legs and running her fingers through his hair.

“Yes, thank you, gorgeous,” he told her, letting out a relieved sigh when he could move his arm once more. It still ached, but he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her to him.

“Don’t scare me like that,” she chided him. “Playing touch football in this heat, Jesus -”

“I was fine, Abby,” he interrupted, irritated at her implication. “Besides it was an illegal tackle that took me out, not the heat.”

“Gonna sue him?” she teased, and then she giggled.

It was wonderful, hearing her giggle and feeling her fingers playing with his hair, one thumb running along his cheek where she held him. “No, he’s only an associate, wouldn’t be worth it,” John teased back. Raising his gaze to hers he took in the playful smirk on her face, the tender way she was looking at him. His irritations from earlier disappeared at the sight. “You’re going to have to do all the work later, I think,” he murmured, and he slid one hand down to briefly squeeze her ass.

She giggled again and stepped closer until the front of her was pressed to his chest, arms wrapping around his neck. “I like the sound of that - been a while since I was on top,” she mused. “‘Thank goodness you’re not too hurt’ sex should be good -”

“Make up sex, too,” he interrupted softly. “I’m sorry I was snapping at you, earlier. Just stressed we were running late after the morning I had -”

“I know, and I was being a pain in the ass because you - didn’t really ask about how my defense went,” she confessed.

“Well, I’m here now and in need of some tender loving care and attention, after that injury,” he told her, and he winked at the way she smiled. “Want to tell me about it?”

“Sure, handsome,” she agreed, and she leaned down to press a deep, loving kiss that teased a promise of _later_ to his lips.

He let his hand wander lower again, not quite caring that they would be seen - in fact he almost hoped they were.

 

* * *

 

His alarm clock began to ring and immediately he reached over to turn it off, blinking a few times to come to his senses. Dragging a hand down his face he looked around, taking in the way the morning light was pouring through the sheer curtains draped on the bed.

Beside him Abby stirred, snuggling closer to him and placing an arm across his chest. “Mmm, was that your alarm already?”

“Yes,” he answered, and he reached over to brush hair off her face.

“Stay in bed,” she murmured, and her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. “Skip your morning jog - we can get a work out in here, instead.”

“Is that so?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow as he rolled to face her.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, sliding a hand into his hair. “Cardio - endorphins. It’ll be the same thing.”

“I like the sound of that, Kitten,” he told her, and he moved until he was over her.

He kissed her slowly, letting his tongue delve into her mouth until he could tell she was nearly breathless. His fingers he used to excite her, stroking inside her and marveling at how wet she already was, like she had woken from a dream about him. When he slid into her she moaned, bracing her feet beside his knees on the bed so that she could answer his thrusts.

But he wanted to enjoy his own pace, and he sat back and pulled her legs up to his shoulders, holding her hips in his lap. At first he rolled into her slowly, watching her face as he pushed as deep as he could. The sight of her fingers twisting in the pillowcases as she gasped and cried out for him made him groan and increase his rhythm. He snapped his hips into hers, savoring the sound of skin slapping against skin, excited by the way it mingled with her cries.

Moving one hand to her face, he held her jaw for a moment before he slipped his thumb into her mouth. She sucked it eagerly, running her tongue along his fingertip, alternating licking and sucking, and he felt her clench around where he was thrusting.

“Are you close, Kitten?” he asked, and she nodded her head rapidly. “Oh?”

“Yes, handsome,” she gasped around his finger, and she shuddered when he pulled his thumb from her lips and placed it against her clit instead.

He leaned over her and finally lowered her legs, picking up the pace as he continued to hold his thumb to her. The headboard was rattling on the wall, and she was crying out even louder until he almost wished they had neighbors who could hear. Her nearly screaming his name as she climaxed was still the best sound he’d heard, and he continued pounding into her as he sought his pleasure.

When he finally collapsed on her they both lay breathing heavily, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. “Wasn’t that better than a jog?” she asked, and they both laughed.

“Definitely my favorite form of exercise,” he told her. He propped himself up and pressed a kiss to her once more, smiling against her mouth as he did.

“We haven’t - we haven’t played in a while,” she mused, biting her lower lip as if in anticipation.

He raised an eyebrow, his heart swelling when he took in the eager way she was looking up at him. “Do you want to play, Kitten?”

She nodded and smiled. “Yes, Handsome.”

“What are you doing today?” he asked.

“I was going to see if I could get some writing done, I had that idea the other day and want to try to work on it,” she told him. “But I’ll be here.”

“I’ll text you instructions then,” he told her, tilting her head up with his thumb beneath her chin. He nipped at her exposed throat a few times, listening to the way it made her gasp softly. “Be a good little Kitten and follow them, hm?”

“Yes, handsome,” she agreed, her words breathy and whispered.

“For now, stay in bed and go back to sleep,” he instructed her. “I like the sight of you lying here, and besides - you need your rest for later, especially after that.”

She giggled softly and nodded. “Yes, handsome,” she said again, and she smiled when he winked at her.

One last kiss and then he pushed himself off the bed finally, stretching as he meandered into the master bathroom. When he had finished a hot, leisurely shower he walked back into the bedroom, eyes drawn to the sight of Abby curled up under the sheets. Her arm was bent beneath the pillow, and she was breathing deeply, lost in slumber with a soft flush still high on her cheeks.

He smiled to himself the entire time he dressed as quietly as he could, hoping not to wake her. Picking up his suit jacket he folded it over his arm and then walked to the edge of the bed to lean over it. The soft kiss to her cheek made her stir, and she nuzzled into the pillow.

“Until later, Kitten,” he whispered.

“Have a good day, handsome,” she murmured, and then she settled back into sleep.

His mind was distracted his entire commute to the office, thinking about the way she’d asked him to stay in bed, and her eagerness to play that day. She was right, it had been a while - they’d just been busy or content with simply falling into bed together at the end of their days. But now the prospect was all he could think about, which was thrilling and yet poorly timed considering the day he had ahead of him.

The office was already busy when he arrived, the conference room full of associates and paralegals sorting through the boxes of discovery that had been delivered the day before.

“Mr. Baker - your ten o’clock has been pushed back to eleven thirty, something came up,” his secretary said as soon as she saw him. “And so far the discovery has just been memos and -”

“Oldest trick in the book,” he grumbled. “Leave it to Jessica to drown us in paperwork. Is Henry in yet?”

“Should be in his office. I’ll get your coffee, you’ll need it today,” she told him.

“Thank you, Erika,” he said with a smile as he walked into his office.

His mind still wanted to wander as he set to work, as he looked over the files brought to him by paralegals and associates. Jessica was a cunning lawyer, yet she’d always played by the rules, ever since Harvard. He spent his morning looking for something he could use, something that could get the litigation dismissed against his client. Something Jessica wouldn’t see coming, or hadn’t thought of.

But all he wanted to think about was Abby, waiting at home for him, likely still naked in bed -

“Um, is there a code for the printer?”

John glanced up from the files he was highlighting at the high-pitched voice. A young woman was standing in his doorway holding a large pile of papers, a confused smile on her face. Her platinum blonde hair was carefully straightened, skin tan as if she had just come back from the beach - although he could tell a tanning salon was more likely. Her outfit was trendy, almost too much so for the office, yet it wasn’t entirely unprofessional. Just the slightest amount of suggestion was present in the tight, slightly low cut of her top. Everything about her seemed carefully crafted into an image of feminine perfection, right down to the way she pouted her lips and batted her eyelashes.

He raised an eyebrow, confused by the interruption. “I - think so,” he told her.

She sighed and seemed to pout more. “Ugh, just my luck - I’m new here, I don’t think I got a code,” she bemoaned. “Can I use yours? Or,” she glanced at the lettering on his door and her eyes widened, “oh - senior partner! Sorry, I - I shouldn’t be in here bothering _you_ for this, I just - Henry came in yelling at everyone and it’s only my second day -”

“It’s fine,” John interrupted. “Erika might be able to help you with the printer.”

She frowned a little and tilted her head. “Erika?”

“My secretary,” he said and he gestured to the desk outside his door.

“Oh! Right,” she told him, and she smiled brightly. But she lingered for a moment, then glanced at the name on the door once more. “Thanks, John.”

“Have we met?” he asked sharply, frowning as he considered her.

“Oh, no, I just - sorry!” she rushed to say. “Um, Mr. Baker. I’m just so nervous, I’m - I’m Jenna, the newest paralegal.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer and then nodded. “It’s all right,” he said finally. “Welcome to the firm.” Looking behind her he noticed Erika seating herself at her desk once more. “Looks like Erika’s back, she can help you with that printer.”

Jenna glanced over her shoulder and gave another soft, “oh!” With one last look at him and a hesitant smile she excused herself from his doorway.

He lowered his gaze to the files before him, and the silver picture frame on his desk caught his eye. It was his favorite from the wedding, the ocean and beach spanning behind them, John’s hand in the small of Abby’s back as she peered up at him. Both laughing at the way he had just kissed the tip of her nose, Abby’s hand lovingly cupping the side of his face.

With a smile on his face he went back to work, losing himself in reading over the discovery. His day passed in meetings, in calls to his client, in trying to determine how to manage a motion to dismiss for the case. Work was finally all-consuming, until it was nearly time to go home for the night - and he hadn’t had a chance to text her instructions all day. A soft knock on his door drew him out of his musings, and he waited expectantly for the reason for the interruption.

“Sorry to bother you, I brought the - Henry sent over the requests from Ms. Coleman,” the same paralegal from earlier told him. She hurried forward and passed him a few pieces of paper.

With a sigh John accepted them and began to scan them. “Thank you,” he muttered absently. “Can you find me copies of the subpoena we sent to Jessica? I’m starting to think we were missing something.”

“Of course!” she agreed quickly, and she hurried out of the office once more.

Within a few minutes she had returned, holding out the papers eagerly. “Anything else I can get you?”

John shook his head as he silently accepted what he had requested. He noticed that he didn’t hear her leave, though, and looked up. “Something else?” he asked.

“I just - I was about to leave for the night,” she told him, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk as if she was thinking. “Stressful day, for all of us, I just - wanted to know if you were interested in getting a drink. Maybe tell me more about the firm, and - blow off some steam.”

There was the slightest emphasis on the last bit of what she said, and he raised his eyebrows as he considered her. Only a breath of a moment passed before he sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his stomach. “No, thank you,” he told her.

“Are you sure? I can be...discreet,” she murmured. It was an interesting assertion, after such a bold, unsolicited proposition.

“I’m happily married, for about five years now,” he answered more firmly. “But do enjoy the rest of your evening. Thank you for bringing me these files, and again - welcome to the firm.”

She seemed to deflate slightly, but she nodded and turned on her heel, almost as if embarrassed. He watched her leave, frowning before he picked up his phone from the desk. It was late, and even though there was always more work to do, all he wanted now was to head home to join his wife. Opening his text messages, he typed out instructions to send to Abby before he set out to leave for the night.

Her reply of, _yes, handsome_ , made him smile as he straightened the papers on his desk. He could finish the rest of this tomorrow - for now, he simply wanted to be home.

Eagerness flooded him as he made his way through town, cursing the traffic and yet also appreciating the way it made the wait longer, the anticipation greater. Finally seeing her would be that much sweeter after being delayed.

His strides were long and quick across the lobby, but he pressed the buttons for the elevator and floor fifty-four as if he had all the time in the world. He took deep, calming breaths, smirking slightly to himself as he thought about what awaited him at the end of the ride up. A brief pause before the front door, and then he turned his key.

The lights were dimmed so that they cast a beautiful, soft glow on the space, almost like a spotlight. Standing in the center, as if she had known exactly where to stand to be best displayed, was Abby - his gorgeous, lovely kitten.

Her skin was bared and tempting, wearing nothing just as he had asked her. Nothing, that is, except for the red Louboutins with a large ribbon bow at the ankle that he had bought for her. She was wearing the platinum chain choker he had given her, the one with a heart-shaped lock that rested on her throat, a diamond twinkling from the lock where a key might go if it were real. The golden strands of her hair caught the light, and the sheen of her red lipstick did more than tempt him a little.

For a moment he simply drank in the sight of her waiting so patiently and expectantly for him. But then he slowly stalked forward and took her shoulders in his hands. An overwhelming urge overcame him, his plans slipping his mind as he felt a different sort of need fill him. Sliding a hand into her hair he tilted her head back, crushing his lips to hers in a slow, deep, passionate kiss. Hesitantly her fingers came up to rest on his chest, as if she wasn’t entirely certain she could or should touch him. When he pulled away finally he stared down at her, smiling at the way the lipstick had smeared a little bit from his ardor.

“I love you, Abby,” he told her. “You know that, right?”

She searched his face for a long moment, and then nodded her head. “I do,” she answered softly. “I love you too, John.”

“Are you ready to play, Kitten?” he asked after a breath of a pause to soak in her words.

“Yes, Handsome,” she said.

“On your knees like a good little Kitten,” he instructed her, and perfect contentment blossomed within him as he watched her smile and obey.


	8. Sympathy for the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Explicit Infidelity.
> 
> I know this fic has already been tagged and dealt with infidelity, but I want to make sure I make a note of it for this chapter. This could be more painful, considering attachment to Abby as a character (I know this hasn't been easy for me to think about/write because I love her so much). It is certainly uncomfortable.
> 
> Also I'd like to add that exploring John as a character has been an interesting challenge as a writer, but in no way do I agree with/condone/endorse anything he does. I know I've joked about this being a thirst fic, but that's just because I can see why Abby fell for him - he's the guy you can't stay away from, but definitely should. Guy's a selfish idiot - but he's human, and flawed, and as a writer that is a lot of fun to write.
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

His bleary gaze read the time as 5:02 a.m., and he noticed the way the bed rocked slightly as Abby fell back on the pillow. Rubbing his eyes he glanced to the side, watching as she struggled with the sheets and duvet, sighing heavily as she fluffed the pillow beneath her head. Once she was finally settled and still, he glanced at the clock once more.

“Are you just now coming to bed? Again?” he asked.

In the dim light he could see that she rolled her head on the pillow so she could look at him. “I didn’t know you were awake, sorry,” she muttered. “Did I wake you?”

“No, my alarm went off,” he told her. “I’m about to leave for my jog, but - Jesus, Abby it’s dawn -”

“I know, I know,” she grumbled, rubbing her brow before she flung her hand back on the pillow beside her. A whiff of stale tobacco accompanied the motion, and he realized she must have stayed up smoking and likely drinking again. “I got so caught up - I must have written almost ten thousand words today, I just - they kept coming and coming. I was on such a roll, I didn’t want to stop -”

“Are you drunk?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to peer over at her.

“Maybe a little tipsy, but mostly just exhausted,” she slurred, belying her assertion. “I’m so close to done, if I hadn’t been falling asleep where I was sitting on the sofa I’d still be going -”

“Abby, this is - too many nights in a row -”

“Not this again,” she grumbled, slapping a hand to her forehead. “Can’t you just - go for your jog and let me go to sleep. This is what I do, John - this is what I _want_ to do -”

“Drink until all hours of the morning?” he accused. “Coming to bed smelling like a pool hall -”

“Like a pool hall? Are those even a thing anymore?” she scoffed. “Inspiration had me, I had to keep writing. That publisher friend of yours emailed me back, the editor too - I need to finish quickly while I have their interest. They want to meet soon. Besides, write drunk, edit sober - and the cigarettes helped me think through a plot hole -”

“That’s bull shit,” he interrupted.”You know I hate it when you smoke -”

“Well, it’s my choice,” she snapped. “Ugh, John, just - let me fucking sleep. Please. Stop nagging, it’s not like I did anything that horrible. Just drank a little too much and stayed up too late. Fucking Christ.”

He stared at her rubbing her brow before she rolled over, turning her back to him with a deep sigh. For several days now this had been the norm, her falling into bed not long before his alarm went off. And for weeks, it had been more frequent for her to put off going to bed with him so that she could stay up writing in the living room. She smelled of cigarettes more frequently, and he’d come home several times to find her out on the balcony smoking as she slouched over her laptop. He had always known she smoked, but she had usually kept it to a minimum and rarely did it around him or let him smell it on her afterwards. Her drinking had once been more casual except for the occasional night they both indulged, or the occasional night out with friends.

Now, she was relying on both, spending more and more evenings staring at a laptop screen, barely a kiss to greet him when he came home. She kept saying she was almost done with her novel, but it was hard to tell if she actually was the way she obsessed over it. And when she’d hit writer’s block, instead of taking a break and doing things with him, she’d written some story about that video game she had played, and posted it online. Her excitement over its response had baffled him, the way she had thrown herself into his arms and bragged that she’d gotten positive reviews.

It wasn’t ever going to amount to anything, and he couldn’t help but feel like it had been time wasted on a ridiculous hobby.

He missed his wife. He missed their time together.

He missed his Kitten.

Now he lay staring at her back for a moment, taking in the way she was already breathing deeply as if she had passed out. In his irritation he almost considered making a loud noise to wake her up again, but instead he pushed himself out of bed and pulled on his jogging clothes. As he ran through the park he tried not to think of how often she had turned him down in past weeks, of the way he could only remember a single quickie in over a week, how he couldn’t remember the last time they had played. The last time he had gotten more than a few brief kisses when he came home before she went back to writing.

The thoughts were still plaguing him as he sat at his desk at work later that day, trying to focus on the files in front of him.

“Here’s those copies you requested, John,” a voice interrupted his musings, and he glanced up. Jenna was standing in front of his desk, holding out a stack of papers for him. The dress she wore hugged her curves, flattering every inch of her. Her hair was perfect as always, makeup flawless as if it had been airbrushed on.

“Thank you, Jenna,” he told her with a smile.

“Of course,” she said with a slow smirk that somehow seemed more like a pout. “Can I get you anything else? You look so stressed.” She batted her eyelashes as if concerned, resting her fingertips on the edge of the desk. The angle she had her arms at worked to push her full breasts together so that they were more obvious above the line of her dress.

This had become standard, the way she still flirted with him even after he had turned down her initial invitation. But it was entertaining, and not necessarily irksome anymore. He let it slide, smiling to himself as she giggled and winked at him, allowing himself to enjoy the attention even if nothing came of it.

Now he let his gaze roam over her, feeling something he had been missing recently, something his life had abruptly lost. Something he hadn’t missed from his life for years, that now left a gaping hole in him with its marked absence.

“Not - not at the moment,” he finally answered her. “Just - busy day.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure that’s all? You’ve just seemed so - irritated lately. If I can do anything,” she emphasized the word slightly, “let me know.”

“Of course, thank you,” he told her with a quick wink before he could stop himself.

Something lit up in her face at the action, and she almost seemed to stand slightly straighter as she pushed herself off his desk. With one last winning, suggestive smile she flicked her hair over shoulder and left the office. He let his gaze wander over her figure as she sauntered out of his office, but his mind wandered to other curves he wanted to see, the form he missed most of all...

Clearing his throat he looked down at the files he was holding, trying to redirect his focus to work once more. But his mind was determined to wander, to the way he was irritated by their snapping at each other that morning, and the way Jenna always treated every interaction as a promise of more later. It made him recall a time when there was always a hint of _more_ and _later_ in Abby’s eyes, in the way she greeted him, the way she kissed him.

He missed that feeling.

It was dark when he finally began to consider ending his day, and he could tell the office was clearing out. He still had work to do, and he almost thought about staying to finish it. After all, what did he have waiting for him at home? Abby was likely still going to be writing, an ample amount of whiskey next to her as her fingers raced over the keyboard -

“Oh, you’re still here?”

John glanced up from where he’d been staring absently at the wedding photo on his desk. Jenna was leaning on his door frame, tapping her fingers on it lightly. He smirked when he saw her and shrugged. “Just one of those days.”

“Are you - sure that’s it?” she asked, and she stepped forward, closing the door behind her. She crossed the office to stand before his desk, studying him carefully. “You just seem so sad, like something’s wrong. Work problems? Or trouble at home?”

He shifted slightly in his chair and avoided her gaze, but he caught sight of the wedding photo and stared at it for a moment before looking away once more. “Just - lots of work -”

“John,” she interrupted him, and her voice came out more as a purr than the high-pitched tones that normally accompanied her flirtations. “I won’t tell anyone if you need to confide in someone. You look so lonely, and it’s hard to see. I told you once - I can be discreet, if you need _anything_.”

He considered her for a moment before he shrugged. “I’m just - in a rough patch, at home,” he said, the words coming out before he could stop them. “Like we’ve drifted apart.”

Jenna held his gaze for a moment before she nodded sympathetically. “Poor guy,” she murmured. “That’s not fair to you, not at all. I could - help with that, if you wanted. I know I’ve probably been obvious, but - you’re just so - handsome. And interesting. I can’t help myself. I can’t possibly imagine how someone can’t see just how _sexy_ you are or ignore you.”

John quirked an eyebrow slightly as he took in her words, trying to fight the hopeful feeling in response to her flattery, the way he knew he shouldn’t give in. But the way she was looking at him was stirring feelings he’d missed, words he hadn’t heard in so long. “You keep saying you can help,” he said quietly. “How, exactly?”

She only hesitated a moment before she turned and locked the door, and then slowly stalked across the office, circling his desk until she was standing beside him. He instinctively turned his chair so that he was facing her, frowning even as his heart began to race. As she sank to her knees she smiled brightly at him, her perfectly manicured fingers working to undo his belt as she held his gaze.

Once she had freed him she glanced up briefly before she wrapped her fingers around him, slowly twisting her hand up his length until he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against his large leather chair. It couldn’t have been that long since he felt fingers eagerly wrapped around him, and yet the fact that he couldn’t easily summon the memory almost pained him.

When he felt her take him between her lips he moaned, but he kept his eyes shut, letting his mind continue to wander. She sucked eagerly at his tip for a moment before she began to draw more of him into her mouth, licking and continuing to stroke him with her hand as she did.

With a wet pop she pulled her mouth off of him, and then trailed her tongue along his length, repeating the action several times before she took him back into the wet heat of her mouth.

How long had it been since he felt this, since _she_ had worked so keenly to please him? He peeked his eyes open to enjoy the sight of her head bobbing as she took him down her throat, but he saw blonde hair and vaguely wished it was brunette, that the eyes shooting him a glance were deep brown and not light hazel.

Clenching his eyes shut again he merely gripped the armrests of his chair, focusing on the sensations of a tongue swirling around him, fingers moving on him, lips sucking at him. He felt himself getting closer, yet before he could say anything she increased her attentions, taking him all the way down her throat and moving one hand to fondle his balls. She worked at him until his fingers dug into the leather of his chair and he felt his mind go blank as he found his release. Jenna continued bobbing her head, sucking and swallowing his spend until there was none left, his body shuddering one last time as he finished.

As he regained his senses he felt her remove her mouth and fingers from him, and he opened his eyes finally to peer down at her. When he met her gaze she winked and dragged a finger across her wet lips, and then she stood. Without more than a smile and trailing her tongue over her bottom lip, she crossed his office once more.

Almost in a daze, he stuffed himself back in his slacks and fixed them, watching as she shot him one last smile over her shoulder before she left the office. It took him several minutes to regather his composure, and he felt disconnected, as if awakening from a vivid dream. Guilt waited at the periphery of his consciousness, but he did his best to brush it aside.

This wasn’t like with Abby - he felt nothing beyond satisfaction, the pent up irritation gone. Abby had been so distracted lately, neglecting him, and Jenna hadn’t done more than give him a chance for a release.

That was all.

When he was back to himself, no longer so dazed by the feeling of fulfillment, he straightened himself and pushed himself from his desk. He made his way through the office, to his car and into traffic without much thought. He would get home, Abby would be writing, and he would go up to bed.

It didn’t need to be any different from any of the days before, considering there had been no emotion attached to the act. Along the edges of his mind he knew it was a mistake, knew he had messed up. But it need not happen ever again, need not ever come up so that she found out. He was satisfied, at the moment, and could wait for Abby to pull herself from her distractions. She kept saying soon, and maybe that would be the case.

His assurances to himself that it was nothing to concern himself with fled the moment he opened the door of the penthouse. At the sound, Abby looked up and hopped off of the sofa in the living room. She hurried across the kitchen and flung herself into his arms, pressing kisses to his cheeks and neck.

“Oh, handsome, I’m so happy you’re home,” she told him. “I missed you all day - I’m so sorry about this morning. I’m just so close to done with my novel, and the editor emailed me yesterday to ask me to meet next week, and - ugh, so much stress,” she rambled, still pressing kisses to him.

She was apparently oblivious to the way he tensed subconsciously as dread filled him at what he had just allowed to pass. This response from her was the last he had expected, and his insides twisted with regret - if he had known -

“Want to order in? Have you had dinner? We could get something and just - climb in bed. I want to make it up to you, I know I’ve been so distracted lately,” she continued. “Hey, you okay? You’re frowning, something wrong?”

He stared down at her for a moment, trying to keep his face neutral. “No, just - a long day. That - that sounds great, Kitten,” he finally agreed. “I - you’re right, I’ve missed you. That’s all.”

She smiled and pulled his face down between her hands, kissing him again and again. “I’ve missed you too,” she told him. “Soon - I’ll be done soon, and then we’ll have more time. I promise.”

He wanted to believe her, but too many conflicting emotions were crashing through him to allow him anything more than a slight grimace in response to her assurances. Yet despite guilt racing through him, he felt a slight excitement at the fact the she was in his arms, smiling up at him like this.

He hoped it lasted.

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t meant to run so late coming home, but he hadn’t been able to resist after she had ignored him again last night after they had dinner together.

Ever since Abby found the text messages between he and Jenna a few months ago, she had pulled away. She alternated wildly between trying harder, spending more time with him, enticing him into bed, or pushing him away as she picked fights with him over every little thing.

And this quickly seemed to be veering towards the latter.

He set his wallet on the counter, turning to find something to drink as he listened to her ask about the ‘case’ that had kept him so late. She was watching him carefully, frowning as she rested her hands on the marble counter island before her.

“I just - you’ve been getting home so late -”

“I always have,” he muttered. “I’ve had a long day -”

“Yeah, and I just - I mean, is it too much to ask that you tell me what the fuck you were up to?” she said, gesturing a hand to the side as she held his gaze, incredulous.

“Work, Abby,” he told her, hating the way his insides twisted. He pushed aside the image of bending Jenna over a bed, desperately seeking a release. When was the last time he had gotten one from Abby? In recent weeks she had pulled away even more, as if irritated by him, upset after one of the times he had left on the weekend for ‘work.’ It had made him glad she couldn’t see his credit card bill, that she couldn’t see the gifts he had been buying or the hotel bills.

But still he longed for her to look at him as she once had, instead of the suspicious way she was now. The way she had begun to look at him for months.

“It was too late for court, so what the fuck were you up to?” she asked, as if she had decided not to beat around the bush.

“Wh-what?” he asked, frowning at her. “Abby, gorgeous, you’re - you’re being ridiculous -”

“Am I?” she challenged, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I called your office, I wanted to see what you wanted to do for dinner - and I talked to Erika. She said you’d left hours ago,” she informed him, and he could tell her gaze was fixated on him. He shifted slightly under her careful regard. “Where were you?”

“I - was meeting with a client for dinner, I forgot to tell Erika -”

“Bullshit.”

“Abby, I -”

“Let me see your phone,” she requested, holding out her hand as her eyes narrowed further.

“No,” he told her firmly. “I’m not going to let you see my -”

“What are you hiding?” she challenged him again.

“I - no, I just - Abby, we need to work at trusting each other -”

“Ha! You know just as well as I do that we’re well past that,” she sneered. “Give me your phone.”

“No,” he answered again, and he hated that his heart sped up. If she saw his phone, she’d know - he hadn’t taken the time to delete the messages yet.

“Jesus Christ, John,” she muttered, frowning sharply as she shook her head. “What the fuck are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” he insisted. “I just hate you acting like you can’t let me out of your sight -”

“Can I?” she interrupted. “After all, it hasn’t been that long since I caught you sexting someone else, and now you’re coming home late. Show me your goddamn phone -”

“No,” he said firmly, holding her gaze without blinking.

Something like pain and fury came into her eyes, and he began to realize this was going to be a bigger fight than the ones before.

Her gaze came to rest on his wallet on the counter, and before he could stop her she snatched a hand out to pick it up. He tried to walk around the marble island before she managed to unfold it, but she moved quicker than him - and a single foil condom packet fell out.

For a long moment, she simply stared at it, her eyes wide, her lips parted slightly as she took in the sight of it.

And then she raised her gaze to him, something like agony and hatred coming into her eyes. “No,” she muttered, and her voice cracked slightly on the word. “No, no, _no_ \- you fucking - are you _fucking kidding me?!”_

“Abby -”

“Don’t fucking - ‘Abby’ me,” she snapped at him, and she picked the condom up from the counter, brandishing it before her. “What the _fuck_ is this? Are you - you fucking _bastard!”_

“Gorgeous, I -” he began, holding up a hand before himself.

“Don’t call me that!” she shrieked. She pulled her arm back and threw the condom packet at him, hitting him square in the chest so that it fell and landed at his feet. “You cheater! Liar! You - you were ‘at work?’ ‘Nothing else happened after those texts?’ You _liar.”_

“I - please, let me explain -”

“Asshole!” Abby chucked the wallet she held at him, and it bounced off of his collar bone. He raised hands defensively before himself, but he quaked slightly at the sight of the tears glistening in her eyes.

He was at a loss, not entirely certain anything he said now would be a deterrent to the anger in her eyes. But he knew confessing would only make this worse, would only give her more ammunition. He refused to tell her she was right, because it hadn’t meant anything - he could make this right.

“Was it the whole time?” she cried, staring at him as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Had you already fucked her when I - fuck, those texts -”

“Abby -”

“You fucking cheater!” she yelled, seeming to take his semi-calm, ambivalent responses to mean ‘yes.’ She was sobbing harder, and she wiped angrily at her cheeks. “How many, huh? I should have - I should have fucking known -”

“There hasn’t been anyone else,” he denied.

“Oh so just one, that makes it all right?” she jeered. “Do you realize - I thought - I thought you loved me, that I was an exception -”

“I do love you -”

She picked up the keys he had left on the counter and flung them at him, catching him on the shoulder before they clattered to the floor. “Don’t you dare tell me you love me after this -”

“But I do -”

“Yeah, you love me so much you’ve been fucking someone else?” she cried. She was backing away from him, shaking her head as she looked around as if at a total loss. “I just can’t - oh my god, Mom was right. You cheated with me, of course - of fucking course you -”

“Abby, you’re imagining things, I - nothing else has happened since those text messages -”

“Stop fucking lying!” she interrupted, gesturing a hand across her to emphasize the words. “What, were you - missing hitting on barely legal girls again? Or is she even legal this time -”

“Abby, stop, you’re being crazy, imagining things,” he scolded loudly, frowning sharply at her accusations. “It’s just a condom -”

“Yeah, and when was the last time we used condoms?” she challenged, seeing through the lie immediately. “When you were fucking around on Connie with me -”

“Stop -”

“No! You fucking cheater, I - Jesus, did you come home from her and - fuck me too?” she cried, and her voice broke on the words. She put her hands on her forehead and turned, sobbing as she did.

“Please, let’s talk - let me explain - I love you, I want -” he tried to plead.

“Stop saying that!” she shrieked, and she picked up his slippers that were lying nearby. She threw first one and then the other, aiming for his head - but he dodged and they thudded against the wall behind him. “You don’t love me! Have you ever even loved me, if you can go out and just fuck someone else -”

“This is ridiculous - Abby you’re being hysterical,” he yelled, losing the last bit of his patience as he stood straight once more.

“Oh, you want to see hysterical?” she cried. She reached for the wine bottle sitting on the counter, the half-finished one they had opened for dinner the night before. When they had sat out together on the balcony to talk, to try to act like everything was normal.

As it shattered on the wall behind him, he realized that false normalcy had been just one more lie they’d told themselves. Glass splintered and crashed to the floor, red wine splattering the soft grey-white walls and the white marble tiles below.

The sound of it shattering brought on an eerie silence as they simply stared at one another. The tears streaming down her cheeks were silent now, unheeded, and she looked like she was shaking. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, and she looked down at the shards of glass before she returned her gaze to his face.

“I’m leaving,” she said, her voice only wavering slightly on the words.

“Let’s - let’s talk about this, instead of you storming out -”

“No, John, I’m not just leaving the apartment to clear my head,” she interrupted more firmly. “I’m leaving you. I want a divorce.”

He stared at her for a long moment, insides twisting.

No.

No, she couldn’t - they could get past this, Jenna meant nothing -

He was pulled out of his thoughts as she pushed past him, grabbing her leather jacket from the back of the sofa and slinging her purse over her shoulder.

“Wait, Abby, gorgeous,” he called after her.

She glared at him over her shoulder, no longer crying. “No, John,” she told him. “There’s nothing you can say. I’m done.”

And with that she walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to write out the scene where she found the text messages between John and Jenna because it sort of felt like beating a dead horse. It's been covered in Just Like Heaven, and it was just yet another fight that he managed to charm his way out of.
> 
> Basically - she found text messages. They fought. He managed to convince her it stopped at text messages and flirtation - even though that fight definitely happened between these scenes, when things had already begun with he and Jenna.
> 
> But in other news - next chapter will be the start of Just Like Heaven in this fic. Hooray!


	9. The Scottish Thug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (finally) correlates directly to Chapter 5 of Just Like Heaven, and begins John's POV of the fic!
> 
> As a refresher for timeline - Abby is struggling for money because she had to unexpectedly buy meds to save Rylen during the worst of his lyrium withdrawal right after his arrival. At this point, Abby hasn't been out on her own a full month yet.
> 
> Hehe xx

The penthouse was too quiet, now.

Abby had usually played music, especially when she sat and wrote. Or they had often lounged on the sofa to watch television or a movie together. Dinner was accompanied by jazz music, usually, when he was home on time for them to eat together.

But now the space felt too large, and suffocatingly silent.

Saturday he had spent golfing and at the office to get ahead of the week, determined to avoid the lack of anything waiting for him at home. He had been staying late every night, as well, working until he was exhausted. He had decided to try to spend some time at home today, relaxing - but he kept opening the files beside him, skimming through the papers.

They hadn’t seen one another except for the meeting with their lawyers. It had been several weeks now since she had left, since he filed. A part of him regretted how he had handled it, but it was too late now to undo the decision. It had been guided by anger, by the urge to keep her from leaving him using his money.

If she wanted to leave, she’d have to do it on her own.

He hadn’t fully expected her to continue on as she had, with so little resources or so much anger. She sat next to the incompetent buffoon she had hired to represent her in the meeting and glared across the table at him, insisting that he confess. She kept saying that was what she wanted - that and the bed she had picked out after their engagement when she had moved in. Her request for access to funds to help support her during the proceedings had been easy to convince a judge to deny, pointing out that she was capable of working enough to pay her rent.

She had also asked if she could sell the engagement ring, sneering at him when he had said he wanted it back. The idea of her selling the token he had given her, the symbol of her commitment to him cut him to the core. He wanted it back on her finger, wanted her back in their home, back in his arms in their bed, so that he could make it all up to her.

Yet still he persisted, still he tried to keep a straight face as he sat across from her, refusing to beg or plead. She would come around - they had never stayed mad for long, and she had to understand. He had strayed with her because he loved her, but Jenna meant nothing. Just a distraction while they had problems.

Surely she would see the difference.

But weeks had passed, and he found himself sitting and staring at the documents for the case, the address in Brooklyn beneath her name. He had looked it up, pulled the building up on street view to study. It was tiny, run down, barely under 600 square feet. That she had lasted as long as she had in such a tiny studio apartment surprised him, and for the first time in a few weeks he found himself doubting.

Beyond the door he heard the elevator ding, and he glanced toward the front door from where he sat at the kitchen counter. His heart leapt into his throat, thinking maybe, just maybe -

A key slid into the lock, and he hurried to close the folder he held before he stashed it in a drawer. He had changed the locks to force a dialogue, to make it so that she had to talk to him to get her things. It was one of the only things he could think to do to encourage her to talk to him outside of lawyers.

He waited only a few moments as she tried the doorknob, and he could hear her swearing as she did. After letting it seem like he wasn’t already near the door, he walked forward to unlock and open it.

“Abby,” he greeted with a smile as he leaned casually on the door. “You should have called, I would have put on some coffee. Or maybe opened a bottle of wine?”

“J-John, I -” she stuttered, and she stood straighter, tugging at her favorite leather jacket as she did. “I didn’t think you’d be home.”

He tried to ignore the way his heart raced, the way he simply longed to take her into his arms. Instead he smirked. “Just taking a lazy Sunday, but you’re welcome to come in,” he told her. He stepped back and gestured her in, watching as she hesitated for a moment before she crossed the threshold.

As he closed the door he noticed her glancing over her shoulder at him. He hated the way he could tell she had dark circles under her eyes, looking paler and thinner than she had even just a few weeks ago. He kept the smile on his face as he began to close the distance between them, secretly celebrating the unexpected chance to see her one on one.

“You look tired, gorgeous,” he mused with a frown, unable to resist the desire to provide for her that always overcame him. “Life in Brooklyn keeping you up?”

“I’m - I’ve just been busy working,” she grumbled, folding her arms across herself and glaring away from him.

John ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw, noticing the way her eyes followed the gesture. If he played this right, would this be the start of making amends, of ending their battle in court? He kept looking her over, still chafing slightly at how worn she looked. “You’re working too hard, then. You’ve lost a bit of your luster,” he commented.

Immediately a glare came to her face, eyes narrowing and he realized she had taken what he said as something more than he had meant. “Gee, I wonder why that is,” she hissed.

His gaze wandered over her, taking in the tense way she was standing, and he tried to keep his smile easy as he shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Abby, having to change the locks, fighting through lawyers,” he pointed out. “You know, technically you’re not supposed to be here -”

“You can’t hold my shit hostage, though,” she snapped, and she took a few steps back.

He fought the frown he wanted to give in response to the accusation. He wasn’t keeping her belongings hostage - but perhaps changing the locks had made her think he meant to. “I’m not, Abby, but this is how things go – it’s contested, so we should have a mediator present, work through third parties,” he sighed and shook his head. He wanted to emphasize the strain on both of them, to open up a chance to explain he was open to talking things through. “I tried to tell you I didn’t want things to go this way -”

“How’s Jenna?” she interrupted, narrowing her eyes once more, a slight sneer pulling up one corner of her mouth.

For a moment he was speechless, fighting the words he wanted to say, the apologies he wanted to offer, the confessions he wanted to make. It was what she wanted, the last card he had to play - but if he could keep from using it, if he could convince her without having to admit what had happened…

He chuckled, as if her assertion was ridiculous, and with a shake of his head he looked away from her.  “Abby, don’t be like this,” he told her. “We had such good times together, gorgeous.”

“And now they’re over,” she murmured. But there was something nostalgic in her tone, a soft vulnerability in the way her voice wavered as she said the words. It gave him hope - hope that perhaps she did miss him as much as he missed her.

“They don’t have to be,” he raised his gaze to hers again, hoping that she knew he meant it. A fresh start, a chance to get it right this time. If only she’d let him try.

“Would you give her up?” The question seemed to pull itself from her lips against her will. She immediately began chewing her lip, scowling as her fingers tightened on the leather covering her arms.

A confession now would make her angry, even just to concede that yes - he would. In a heartbeat. And now he knew - if she was asking that, maybe if he did, maybe if he made it clear he only wanted her, maybe they’d be on the path to making amends. It could mean biding his time, though, and setting things right before he tried, before he confessed. “So, gorgeous, what brought you here on a Sunday?” he asked casually instead.

“I’m assuming you’d be able to figure it out,” she gritted out, throwing another sharp glare his way. “I need some more of my stuff, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

But he almost thought maybe he saw his opportunity, and he laughed at the chance that fate had thrown his way. “And you’re going to, what - carry it on the subway back to Brooklyn?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow as he met her glare. “Let me give you a hand -”

“I don’t need a hand from you – or anything else,” she snapped, and she suddenly turned on her heels and marched across the living room to the stairs.

John put his hands in his pockets, taking measured steps as he followed her up to the bedroom. Their bedroom, the space he longed for her to return to, the room where the silence left by her absence was felt most strongly.

He followed her at a careful distance, trying to balance his attempts to open dialogue with not pushing too far, or upsetting her. He noticed the way she slowed and looked over the bed as they entered the bedroom, and he fought the urges, the things he wanted to say.

“Nice to see she hasn’t ruined everything yet,” Abby said suddenly, not looking over her shoulder at him as she said it. He could hear the smirk in her voice though, and he buried the anger he felt at her words.

It wouldn’t even do to tell her that Jenna hadn’t ever been to the penthouse - that this room was still theirs, that her presence still marked every inch of it. That alone would be too much of a confession, and he wasn’t ready for that.

Instead he glanced around at the words, fighting the emotions vying for his attention. Irritation got the better of him, though. “I may repaint the walls. The grey, just - something about it,” he mused slowly.

Her spine almost seemed to stiffen, nose raising slightly in the air as she turned toward the large closet and reached for two large totes. They had once used them to carry things for their weekends away, but now she was haphazardly pulling some of her clothing off their hangars to throw them into the bags. The clothes he had liked, instead of her normal black, minimalist ‘punk’ that she had always preferred.

Withholding a deep sigh he leaned against the doorway and watched as she filled the tote bags. He wondered if she missed her finer things, if perhaps she had come to reclaim some of the luxury she had been used to.

“Need any help?” he asked, and he watched as she looked up, her eyes wandering over his folded arms.

She looked quickly away, almost seeming to struggle with herself for a moment. Finally a scowl returned to her face. “I can get it - that is, if you’ll let me take my belongings out of the house?”

“Of course, Abby, whatever you need,” he assured her with a shrug. “I can pack you up some of the other items too. Do you need food? You look so tiny, have you been -”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, cutting his concerns short.

“You’ll wear yourself thin. I worry about you,” he sighed, unable to resist confessing it. “You look like eight years ago, living off broth and cigarettes, stumbling drunk after one shot of whiskey -”

“Perfect prey for an asshole like you,” she interrupted. The scathing look she shot him cut him to the core, the tone of her voice making his insides twist.

“You know that’s not true,” he tried to correct softly. The idea that she thought that of him, of how they had met, of the start of their relationship - it was almost too much. He met her gaze, and found he couldn’t hold back the confession he’d wanted to hold off until later. “I’ve always loved you -”

“You love the idea of me,” she challenged with a sneer. Abby pushed herself to her feet, slinging the overflowing tote bags on each shoulder.

He swallowed hard and unfolded his arms, deciding to ignore her assertion, deciding not to argue the point. “Let me carry one of those,” he insisted as he reached out to take one from her.

She easily side-stepped his grasp, pulling away from him. “No, I’ve got them -”

“Are you really going to shuck those all the way back to Brooklyn like some kind of Sherpa?” he interrupted, raising an eyebrow as he said it. He didn’t like the idea of her going all that way struggling under the bulk of the bags. Whatever her need for the clothes he didn’t ask. Instead he took in the sight of bags under her eyes again, of how thin she was after just a few weeks away. “Let me drive you home,” he insisted again.

“No,” she answered, but her voice shook slightly.

“Abby, you don’t need to prove a point and lug that home on your own,” he pointed out, shaking his head and giving her a smirk. She could be so stubborn, but she didn’t need to be. “Let me take care of you, you can take the TV from the guest room and a few pots and pans, too. I worry about you, living in that shithole -”

“Oh, you worry about me?” she interjected, raising a challenging eyebrow at him. He realized he’d chosen the wrong approach, wishing he could take it back when she scoffed slightly at him. “That’s funny, you didn’t seem to give a shit when you sprang the divorce on me and made sure I didn’t have access to the accounts -”

“A misunderstanding,” he hurried to correct, holding his hands out as if conceding the point. “Gorgeous, the law is what it is -”

“Yes, it is, and you knew exactly what you were doing,” she spat, glaring up at him. “You can’t expect me to believe you didn’t know that would happen. Christ, John, you’re a partner at your firm -”

“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that,” he admitted. His regret at his impulsive action increased two-fold, but he did his best to keep his face straight. The mood she seemed to be in, she’d pounce the moment he showed any regret or weakness. “But we can work it out -”

“N-not interested,” she muttered, and she tried once more to push past him, still struggling slightly under the tote bags.

When was the last time she had eaten or gotten a good night’s sleep? Surely she hadn’t been working _that_ much? Or did she also lie awake at night, unable to sleep without her bed and him sleeping beside her, the same way he suddenly felt restless every night?

Instinctively he reached out and took her arm in his hand, pulling her back toward him. He raised his free hand and gently tucked her hair behind her ear, carefully studying her face as he did. Her eyes widened slightly, looking torn between surprise, indignation - and something else, a melancholic look that almost made him feel a touch of hope. “Come on, let me drive you home,” he insisted again.

She chewed her lip between her teeth as she held his gaze, and he let his eyes wander over her, suddenly aware of just how near they were to one another. When was the last time he had been this close to her, had held her almost full against him? Even the stale smell of tobacco was welcome, stirring up memories of hurriedly pulling her out of her clothes and leading her to the bed.

It was right behind them, and as strong as the temptation was he did his best to bury it. “Come on, gorgeous, I’ll get everything loaded up,” he murmured, and he took one of the tote bags from her hands and instead pulled it over his shoulder.

She didn’t correct him calling her that, she didn’t fight him taking the bag from her. Instead she followed him through the penthouse, back down the stairs to the kitchen. Whether she was simply exhausted or didn’t feel like arguing, he didn’t mind. He smiled at her, noticing the way she seemed to take a deep breath and look away from him when he did.

On an impulse he stopped in the kitchen, setting down the bag he carried and reaching for the French press she had used every morning. He wrapped it carefully in a towel and put it in the bag, then he paused as he stared at the magnetic strip above the counter. One of the Damascus steel knives caught his eye, and he considered it for a moment before he reached for it as well. It was a small thing, but it was engraved with the date of their wedding, with their initials. Maybe having something sentimental around her small apartment would make her think about him, make her remember the good times. Their barefoot wedding in the Virgin Islands, dancing to their song, the week they had spent alone on an island doing nothing but making love with no one to interrupt them.

If anything, it was worth quite a bit, and if she was struggling as she seemed to be, maybe she could make some quick cash on it. The idea of being able to provide for her, even if she didn’t realize that was what he was doing, made him smile.

“John,” she groaned behind him, and he noticed the way she rolled her eyes and looked away from him, lips tightening.

“You should have it, Abby,” he told her, and he gave her a tiny wink. “Maybe it’ll help you learn to cook, finally.”

Her fingers tightened on the strap of the tote bag she held, and she scowled away from him. He smiled to himself, undaunted. She hadn’t picked a fight, she had let him slip it into the tote bag - and she looked to be struggling with some deeper emotion.

“Is there anything else you want, gorgeous?” he chanced to ask. “That TV in the guest room is available, and we could get you set up with cable -”

“I’m fine without it,” she gritted out, still glowering away from him.

Deciding he had maybe pushed a bit too far, he merely shrugged and picked the tote bag up once more. “Suit yourself. Do you have everything?” he asked. “Even if you don’t you can always come back, I’ll be more than happy to help you make a few trips. All you have to do is call.”

“This should be it,” she mused slowly. “At least until things are finalized,” she added, giving him a pointed look as she said it.

A deep sigh slipped from his throat and he shook his head as he grabbed his keys off the hook beside the front door. The keys to the SUV, the one she had always loved - maybe it would cheer her up. “In that case, I guess I’ll take you back to Brooklyn.”

On the elevator ride down she stared straight ahead, with plenty of distance between them as she stood with her arms folded tight. He wondered a little until he noticed her chewing her lip, fidgeting slightly with her fingers. A small sliver of hope that she was holding back seized him, noting the way she was putting so much effort into not looking at him.

The idea lent him a confidence he hadn’t felt in a while, and as they crossed the lobby together he nodded a small greeting at the staff and other residents they passed. He didn’t want them thinking about how they hadn’t seen them together in a while. Or how the last time they’d been seen together she had been storming out carrying her father’s paintings and rolling a suitcase behind her as he had angrily watched her go.

Instead he tried to think that maybe this was the first step to her returning home. If only he continued to play his cards right - after all, she’d accepted a ride home.

But he noticed the way she ignored the doorman, even though before she had always made certain to stand and speak with him, asking about his family. She was keeping her lips pressed together as she stared straight ahead, arms still folded tight across her chest.

When the car had been brought around he opened the door to the backseat, depositing the bag he held on the seat before he turned and took the one she held. “Let me help you, Abby. Do you need to stop anywhere else first?”

“N-no,” she muttered, and she hurried around to the passenger side as if unable to linger beside him any longer.

John took his seat behind the wheel and maneuvered easily into traffic before he tried to engage her in conversation. He glanced at Central Park beside them and smiled. “Everything’s blooming, it seems so early,” he said. “It’s made my runs so beautiful - I remember you used to love the cherry blossoms. I think about you when I -”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, and he noticed that her voice cracked when she spoke. “I - I appreciate the ride, but this doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t make us -”

His heart ached slightly at her insistence, but he put on a smile as he glanced at her. “Gorgeous, we were never ones to stay mad for long,” he pointed out. He remembered how often they had solved their fights and anger in bed, how quickly they had always reconciled. If she would only give him a chance, if she could try to understand. “We don’t have to be now,” he continued. “This can all blow over, we can work through it -”

“No,” she insisted, and she looked away from him out the window. “Please, just - I want to go home.”

The word tugged at him, thinking of the silent penthouse, the bed that was suddenly too big, the hints of her he still felt all over their home. “It’s not your home, though, not really,” he said.

For a few moments they were silent, Abby still staring away from him out the window, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. But he couldn’t stand the silence, especially not with her here beside him once more. Despite how silly and desperate it almost made him feel, he began to talk about things as they passed them, commenting on the weather, on the springtime and how much he knew she loved it. Yet still she stared out the window, occasionally chewing on her thumb as she contemplated the city around them in silence.

“Don’t you think, gorgeous?” he finally prompted her, speaking more directly to catch her attention and force a response.

She finally glanced his way, and gave a soft, almost mocking shrug. “Sorry? I was focusing on literally anything else,” she told him, smirking slightly after she said it.

“I - I was saying that you must like being this close to the river,” he repeated himself, but he felt a mixture of annoyance, anger, and disappointment filling him at her response.

Was it too much to ask that they at least be able to hold a conversation?

At his words a gleam came into her eye and the smirk became more pronounced. “It’s a nice part of town,” she mused slowly. “Free from sharks.”

The words cut him deeply, but he looked away from her and finally gave up attempts at conversation. He thought about the way she had playfully called him her shark over the years, how she had found little trinkets to give him as joke gifts. That first gift she gave him, and that first day they met -

He cleared his throat and continued on, easily driving to the address he had unconsciously memorized from studying the court documents. The hours he spent poring over them and the restless nights he had thinking about her sleeping alone in a tiny apartment instead of home with him.

Too many mistakes - he had handled this all wrong. As she directed him to parking he thought about how perhaps it was time to take a risk, to make some concessions. At the moment they were at least speaking, alone together, and if he could keep this up maybe they could talk.

Maybe he could convince her to come home.

“I’ll help you carry everything in,” he offered as he turned the engine off.

“You don’t need to -”

“I want to,” he assured her.

She glanced at him and then sighed, nodding as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “All right,” she said with a sigh.

When they were both on the sidewalk he passed her one of the tote bags before he glanced up and down the street. It reminded him of the place she had lived with her mother, almost, although this building was more modern, not the elegant yet shabby brownstone he used to pick her up in front of. “Quaint little place,” he murmured, feeling almost overcome with nostalgia.

But Abby seemed to bristle at his words and she turned and hurried quickly into the building. She made a beeline for the stairs after she buzzed them in. As he followed he glanced at the elevator nearby, eyebrows raising as he took in its rickety, precarious condition.

“The elevator looks like a safety hazard, I’m amazed they’ve gotten away with it,” he mused. He didn’t like the idea of her here, dealing with problems like this. Perhaps he could convince her it wasn’t safe, if nothing else.

“Please don’t,” she groaned. “Don’t do that lawyer thing you do where you pick everything apart -”

“I’m just observing, gorgeous,” he told her with a sigh. “I don’t like the idea of you living in these conditions -”

“I’m fine,” she gritted out, and she slowed as they reached the third floor. She turned to face him and held her hand out. “Here, I’ve got it from here, thanks for the help -”

“No, Abby, it’s fine,” he insisted. “I can carry it for you. Three-fifteen, right?”

“I -” something shifted in her gaze as she trailed off, but then she let out a huff and turned to walk toward the door. “You can set it down -”

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” he said, trying to keep his tone light and teasing. It could be ending too soon, his attempts to get her to talk to him, his attempts to convince her home. He shrugged casually and gestured a hand back down the stairs. “I could take you out to dinner, there’s supposed to be a great Chinese place nearby -”

“John, what the fuck are we doing?” she blurted out with an exasperated sigh. “I just - seriously? We’re fighting in court but now you want to take me to dinner, you drove me home?”

Impulsively he took a step toward her, setting the bag he held at his feet so that he could more easily close the distance between them. “I told you I don’t want to fight,” he murmured. He reached again to brush her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her breath almost seemed to catch even though she was frowning at him, and he let his thumb linger, trailing his fingers lightly over her cheek in a caress. “We could make it work, we could go to counseling, anything. I’m willing to fight for you, gorgeous.”

It was a small concession, finally giving in to something she had suggested after she found the text messages. He hadn’t thought it would help, hadn’t wanted to be in a situation where he might have to confess that it had been more than text messages like he had assured her.

Then when she had later suggested that they start a family, when he had told her he’d never wanted children and thought she'd known that. She had asked to try counseling again, upset by his answer, saying maybe they wanted different things in life. But that had seemed like an even worse time to try counseling - especially since she kept pulling away from him, and he had been seeking Jenna out more and more each time she did, unable to resist.

He thought about the night he'd come home and found her with a new tattoo on her arm - without so much as a word to him, letting him know or seeing if it was all right. Once he'd seen the words on her forearm, it had felt like a slap in the face - though he had never confessed that to her. As things fell apart, it became harder to confess his wrongdoings so he could make things right, and somehow that only made him continue to make the wrong choices again and again.

Now, though - he’d do anything.

“I - J-John, I - where was that attitude months ago? I tried,” her voice broke with emotion and she backed into the wall behind her. He took a few more steps forward, taking in the way she was looking up at him, feeling a small sliver of hope - if he could just keep her close. “I tried,” she whispered again.

“I should have tried harder, Abby,” he confessed. His fingers were still caressing her cheek, and he ran one thumb over her lips, noticing the way they quivered slightly under his touch. “Maybe you wouldn’t have slipped away if I had, if we had -”

But he trailed off, deciding it was best not to lay blame on either of them. Not when he’d managed to get her this close, finally. Her lips were parted, she was still staring up at him wide-eyed. She almost seemed to be leaning on the wall to support herself.

If he embraced her, if he kissed her and seduced her, they’d be that much closer to where they should be - with her home, with him where she belonged. Her eyes closed, she didn’t raise a word of protest as he leaned closer until he could taste her breath -

“Oh there you are, lass,” a deep, accented, and unfamiliar voice suddenly cut in. “Is - is he bothering you?”

“R-Rylen!” Abby stuttered out, and she suddenly pushed John away as he turned and tried to figure out who had interrupted them. “I - um -”

Standing outside the door to Abby’s apartment was a broad, giant of a man - he had to be at least three inches taller than John’s own slender height, and almost twice as wide. But it was all muscle, as evidenced by the man’s bare, vast chest and large arms. He was covered in tattoos - one in the middle of his chest, odd lines and symbols, one on a bicep as well as the opposite forearm. But besides those he actually had similar tattoos on his face, lines brazenly running down his chin and his hooked nose.

Those and the long scars running down over his right eye and along his left cheek made John immediately wonder what sort of criminal Abby had gotten herself into trouble with. His eyes were narrowed as he looked between John and Abby, and for a moment John found himself worried that things could get dangerous.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” he challenged, folding his arms across his chest as he glared at the stranger.

Instead of looking intimidated at all, the taller man actually stood straighter until he towered even more over John and Abby as he folded his muscular arms as well. “I might ask you the same question,” he said, and John finally placed his accent as Scottish. He gave John one last scathing look and then turned his attention - and an almost concerned frown - to Abby. “Lass, are you all right?”

“I - I’m fine,” she muttered. She seemed flustered under the other man’s attention, but she didn’t seem frightened at all. It made John wonder that she seemed so relieved, almost, to see the interloper - even enough to continue on to give him an explanation as if he was owed one. “He was just helping me carry my things in.”

“Aye, he’s certainly trying to help do something,” the man said, still staring with narrowed eyes at John.

“Abby, gorgeous, please - tell me you’re not living with this tattooed hobo,” John spluttered, turning to Abby as he hoped the answer was _no_. But he couldn’t tell why else he would be there, so casually spending time shirtless and in sweats in the apartment, if he wasn’t her roommate.

Unless...

The sudden image of Abby picking the other man up at a bar or going on a date with him, taking him back to this small apartment, spreading her legs for him and letting him -

“Hobo?” the man repeated, interrupting the horrible images racing through John’s mind.

“I - damn it, John, I told you - I’m not - under your thumb anymore,” she insisted, and she pushed at his chest again until he stumbled back a pace or two. He hadn’t even noticed how close he had moved to her again, just intent on shielding her from this hulking brute, intent on keeping her away from his piercing gaze. Abby glared up at him as she continued to challenge him, “Whatever my living situation -”

“I just - living with a - a hobo, I - Abby, come back to the penthouse,” John hurried to insist. If anything, this could be his chance. Again the image of the other man carefully plying her for her favor - or worse - swam across his mind, and he let a critical gaze wander over him. “I’ll make certain you’re taken care of, like you deserve to be -”

“So you’re the husband?” the man mused, and he rubbed a hand over the stubble, scar, and tattoos covering his chin and jaw as he considered John. “Interesting to hear you talk about helping the lass when you’ve led to her living in a place like this.”

Anger boiled in John at the accusation, at the other man acting as if he knew anything about what was going on between him and  _his_ wife. “Is that what she’s told you?” he challenged. “I’m not sure some _like you_ could understand -”

“Someone like me?” the man said, raising an eyebrow as if he had caught John’s meaning easily.

But John was furious, his hands shaking, and he couldn’t help but drive the point home. “Well, I just mean - a Scottish thug with tattoos and scars on his face - Jesus, Abby, did you pick him up from Rikers or something?” he demanded, and he glared between Abby and the man. Instinctively he took a step toward her once more, still intent on keeping her away from the other man.

To his surprise Abby leveled him with a withering glare. “Even if I did it’s none of your damn business,” she snapped. “Thanks for the ride, John - it’s been a whirlwind, like always. Now if you’ll excuse me -”

His heart raced, insides twisting as he realized he was missing his chance, thanks to the interruption of this stranger whose connection to her he just could not fathom. “Abby, gorgeous, please -”

“Stop calling me that!” she finally yelled, swiping a hand to emphasize the words. “It’s - it’s over, John. This is my home and my life now, got it? You don’t get to come here and - and feign concern over me -”

Again her insistence that she was fine, here. That she was managing without him, that this tiny apartment and even this strange, towering hulk of a man who seemed to live here too didn’t bother her. Again her determination for this to be the end, to not let them see if they could move past this.

“It’s not fake, gor - Abby,” he caught himself, “I know I messed up -” he began, intent to finally lay it bare if he needed to. But his phone started ringing, and with irritation coursing through him he reached into his pocket, pulling it out to turn it off.

Of course - of course in this moment it was _her_ and he cursed his luck - though he found himself hoping that he managed to hide the caller ID. Glancing up at Abby and taking in the icy glare she met him with, though, told him that he hadn’t been fast enough.

“You’re right, John, you did,” she hissed. “Better answer - if I remember right Jenna doesn’t like waiting her turn.”

“Wait, Abby - let me explain -”

She didn’t listen. He tried to protest, but she merely grabbed the tote bags off the floor and charged into the apartment. The Scottish brute stepped into the doorway when John moved as if to follow, and for a moment they glared at one another before the door was slammed in his face by the other man.

As if he belonged there, as if John was the outsider.

As if he knew that was what she would want him to do, to lock John out without another word, another attempt to make things right.

For a few moments he stood and simply stared at the door, but he knew knocking again, trying to speak with her wouldn’t do any good. Not with that hulking thug in the way. He’d have to wait for another chance to speak with her.

He turned finally and walked away from the apartment, slowly making his way down the stairs, mind reeling. His phone began to beep again, and he checked it absently, as if hoping perhaps it was from Abby.

When he saw the messages were from Jenna, asking if he was available, if he wanted to see her, he scowled and stopped walking for a moment. Anger seized him and he dialed, putting the phone to his ear as he continued down the stairs and out of the building.

“Heyyyy!” her bubbly voice greeted him after only one ring. “How are -”

“Do you have any idea what you just interrupted?” John snapped, unable to restrain his anger. He was almost shaking, and with no other outlet he channeled the fury he felt at meeting the strange man Abby seemed so comfortable with at Jenna.

“I - I’m sorry, it’s only Sunday, didn’t think you were busy,” Jenna told him, and she let out a few careless giggles. “Just wanted to see if you wanted to -”

“No, I don’t,” he snapped. “I was in the middle of something important, and you calling ruined it. From now on, if I don’t arrange it, just assume we aren’t seeing one another.”

“I -”

“Don’t call again unless I ask you to,” he instructed her.

And he hung up.

Once he was in his car he sat for a moment staring straight ahead. Rage filled him and he hit the smooth leather of the steering wheel several times with his palms. The way Abby had jumped at the other man’s voice, the way she had pushed John away so quickly as if she didn’t want to be seen with him by the Scot made him wonder.

And again his mind wandered to what their relationship might be, picturing the giant of a man moving above Abby, seeking his pleasure with _his wife._

Something about the man had seemed familiar, but he wondered if maybe he had met him in passing before. He thought he would have remembered the tattoos and scars, or someone Scottish whom Abby had been so friendly with. Nothing came to mind, though, and all he could think was that he was trying to rationalize how a strange man could act so protective of her when she’d only been away from John for a few weeks.

Finally taking a deep breath he turned his car on and determined to go home - even though he dreaded heading back to the silence that awaited him there.


End file.
